Living a Dream
by writerchic16
Summary: When Reba faints because of high blood pressure again, she wakes up in the past, months before the divorce and Cheyenne’s pregnancy.
1. Chapter 1

**Living A Dream**

Summary: When Reba faints because of high blood pressure again, she wakes up in the past, months before the divorce and Cheyenne's pregnancy.

A/N: Hi, my name is Jenna, and I'm new to the Reba section. I've been watching the show for a while, but only got the idea for this story after watching the repeats on Lifetime. Just so you know, I'm a little fuzzy about Reba's life before the show, so if I the details aren't right or I make up something that conflicts with known facts, tell me.

* * *

_**January 2007**_

_Why do these things always happen to me?_

Reba hated to be cliché, but it was true. Why, dear Lord, was she constantly stuck listening to her ex-husband complain about his wife?

"…and it's like we're not in love anymore. Like we're just two people who happen to be in the same house," Brock was saying.

In the process of taking down Christmas decorations, Reba didn't even glance up when she replied, "Well, as much as I advocate you being in your house…"

"Reba!"

"Fine," she sighed, going over to sit next to him on the couch. "But seriously, Brock, maybe you should go away together or something. Rekindle your relationship."

Brock "You're not just saying that to get rid of us, are you?"

"No, but that's definitely a bonus," Reba retorted.

Thinking for a minute, Brock nodded. "You know, that's not a bad idea. There's this golf resort I've been dying to go to –"

"Somewhere for the _both_ of you, you moron," Reba interrupted, rolling her eyes. "Why don't you go to a spa?"

"A _spa_? Really, Reba, could you _get_ any less masculine…" Brock answered, giving her an incredulous look.

Reba raised an eyebrow. "Didn't you go to a spa with _Van_ last year? At least this time you won't be mistaken for a gay couple."

"Oh, right, forgot about that. That was nice," Brock said, with a dreamy look on his face.

Reba patted his knee, then went back to taking down decorations. "Glad I could be of service. Why don't you go on home and start planning with Barbara Jean?"

"Do you think she'll want to do this?" Brock asked, suddenly overwhelmed with doubt. "I mean, the only thing that prevents us from arguing around the clock is the TV, and hotels don't have digital cable!"

"Trust me, she'll love the idea. If not, well, she'll say no but think you're sweet for suggesting it," Reba insisted.

"Yeah…" Brock trailed, off, watching Reba as she reached to take down a strand of garland. Horrified when he found himself noting the way her jeans hugged her bottom when she bent over a box of ornaments, he shook his head. It was dangerous to think of his ex-wife that way when he was having problems with his current one. Coming up with a change of subject, he inquired, "You need help with the decorations?"

"Nah, I think I've got it covered," Reba assured him. "Van was helping me earlier and we got a lot done."

Looking around, Brock asked, "Speaking of the kids, where are they?"

"Well, Van went out with Cheyenne and Elizabeth to pick up more stuff for the new baby," Reba answered. "Kyra's at band practice, and Jake is at a friend's house."

Brock had stopped listening after the words "new baby." "I can't believe Cheyenne's pregnant again! I hope it's a boy this time."

"Now, you know the rule – we're happy as long as the baby's happy and healthy," Reba admonished, then sighed when her eye fell on a picture of Jake that was on the table. "Though it would be nice to have a little boy running around the house again."

"There's Henry," Brock reminded her.

Picking up the picture for a brief second, Reba put it down before replying, "Yeah, I guess. But he's already getting so big. Plus the fact that I have to talk to Barbara Jean whenever I want to spend time with him."

"Oh, come off it, Reba. You've gotten used to Barbara Jean over the years," Brock argued.

Reba paused at that. She didn't want to admit it, but the annoying airhead had gotten on her good side. It was amazing, really. After the divorce, she never thought she'd ever be able to look at Barbara Jean without going into an angry rant. Now it was almost like they were the friends she always thought they were. _Not best friends, of course –_ _let's not push it_, Reba thought with a smirk. "Yeah, I guess. It's just that sometimes I wish I never had to get used to her."

"You mean, if we never got divorced?" Brock asked, intrigued by the idea.

"Right. The divorce, Cheyenne's pregnancy…" Reba leaned on the couch, her mind wandering. Her gaze settled on the star on top of the tree. _I should take that down next,_ she thought, making a mental note. "Sometimes I wish we were a normal family."

Brock was silent for a minute. "I don't think that would work. Our marriage was on a downward spiral even without Barbara Jean."

"True," Reba agreed. "And then there's Elizabeth. I wouldn't trade her for anything."

Brock nodded. "Me neither." He then saw her trying to reach the star. "You want me to get it?"

"Nope, I can do it," Reba insisted. When she couldn't reach, she stood on one of the dining room chairs. She made sure her feet were steady before grabbing the star. On her way down, however, she suddenly got very lightheaded. The room spinning before her, she slipped, the star falling out of her hand. She crashed to the floor, hearing Brock shouting her name before losing consciousness.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Brock paced the waiting room floor. He was even more nervous about his ex-wife this time than when she was in the hospital last year. True, just seeing Reba so weak in that bed – so unlike herself – had been enough to rattle him. But this time, it was _so_ much worse. She'd hit her head, he was sure of it. He had turned soon enough to catch a glimpse of her falling, the back of her head smashing against the dining room table corner.

It was good for him that he was now in a hospital. He'd need medical attention when his foot got stuck in his butt after kicking himself so much. Why didn't he turn around sooner? Why didn't he _catch_ her, damn it! He was _right_ there, not five feet away! Couldn't he hear her small gasp when she slipped?

No. He had been distracted by thoughts of his own stupid problems. How come his selfishness always hurt the people he cared about the most?

"How is she?"

Nearly jumping out of his skin, Brock looked up to find his eldest daughter standing in front of him. Funny, he hadn't even noticed when his kids and Barbara Jean arrived. "I don't know, honey. We only got here a few minutes ago and the doctor's examining her now."

"What happened, Brock? She faint from high blood pressure again?" Barbara Jean asked, her tone and her facial expression full of concern for whom she viewed as her best friend.

"Well, yes, technically…" Brock hesitated as the others gave him puzzled glances. How could he tell them that the woman they all loved was most likely in critical condition because of him? _A little white lie couldn't hurt._ "Um, when I came in she was already unconscious. From the looks of things the paramedics figured that she was taking down decorations when she fell and hit her head."

"I should've stayed and helped more!' Van vented, "She asked me to but stupid me decided to go shopping!" He then angrily punching a chair before storming off.

Cheyenne ran after him, Elizabeth in tow. "Van! Come back!"

After a moment of silence, Barbara Jean remarked, "At least you got there when you did, Brock. That's the important thing." She kissed him before going to tend to Henry.

_Way to kick a man when he's down, honey_, Brock thought. He then realized that Kyra and Jake were still sitting there, looking at him. He shivered a little at the blank expression on his middle child's face. It was like she _knew_ he wasn't telling them everything.

Instead, she simply inquired, "Can we see Mom?"

"Yeah, can we?" Jake echoed.

Brock shook his head. "I'm sorry, kids. The doctor said she can't have any visitors until further notice. He doesn't want to risk her blood pressure spiking up again."

'Then maybe Barbara Jean should've stayed home," Kyra scoffed.

About to protest, Brock realized she was right and kept his mouth shut. Seconds later the doctor emerged from Reba's room, a clipboard in his hand. "I have the results of Mrs. Hart's tests."

"And?" Brock pressed.

The doctor hesitated. "Well, it's rather unusual, actually. She did hit her head hard, and is in a coma. Her blood pressure is still high, but we predict after she's given proper medication it will return to normal and she will wake up within the week."

"And that's unusual how, exactly?" Kyra snapped.

"You see, when someone is in a coma," the doctor explained, "their brainwave activity is very low. Hers, however, seems to indicate that she is functioning normally, which of course isn't the case. We're trying to uncover the cause of that now."

Brock digested the information, then asked, "Should we be worried about that?"

"No. There's no sign that this phenomenon is having a negative effect," the doctor informed him. "It's very rare, but it has happened before. Most people who wake up claim to have had vivid dreams, in which they think they're somewhere else and aren't even aware that their bodies are in the hospital."

"Cool! Mom's having an out-of-body experience!" Jake exclaimed.

Kyra punched his arm. "Shut up, sci-fi geek."

"Ow! Dad, Kyra punched me!"

"Kyra! Stop hurting your brother," Brock warned, then turned to the doctor. "Thank you for that information. I'll be sure to tell the others."

"Don't worry too much, I'm sure she'll pull through. I'll come back in a while to check if you can see her," the doctor assured him.

Watching the doctor walk away, Brock sighed. "I hope he's right."

"Yeah, but worse comes to worst, Mom spends a few days in the Twilight Zone," Kyra joked, humming the infamous theme song.

* * *

"_You just crossed over into the Twilight Zone…"_

"Jake! Turn the dang TV off and get ready for school!" Reba shouted, her voice muffled by her pillow.

"Sorry Mom!"

Reba paused, lifting her head off the pillow. _Why does Jake sound so…different?_ "Jake, are you okay?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Never mind," Reba sighed. Maybe she was still tired and wasn't hearing right. Flipping over to her back side and sitting up, she wiped her eyes.

_Oh. My. Lord._

Reba's jaw dropped as she looked around her room. Or, what was usually her room. Somehow overnight her room was sucked in some kind of time warp. Her bed was facing the way it did before she redecorated, every stick of furniture was from the "pre-divorce era." Her heart pounding, on a hunch she raced to the closet. _What…the…heck_?

Sure enough, Brock's clothes were on one side, hers on the other. Which meant… "Brock?"

"What, honey? I don't have to wake up for at least an hour," Brock moaned through the sheets.

Closing her eyes and letting out a deep breath, Reba opened them as she whirled around. Sure enough, he was sprawled across the side that used to be his. _Oh my Lord, what happened last night?_ Reba thought frantically. Right now, it didn't matter that her room suffered a major blast from the past. What mattered was that Brock was in her bed and that no one else knew. For now.

In fact, keeping this secret was the only thing preventing her from screaming like a little girl. Whatever "this" was.

"Get out!" Reba ordered, ripping the sheets off him. Her breath caught for a moment when she saw that he was only wearing boxers. Swallowing hard, she repeated, "Out, now! What are you still doing here? You want the whole household to think we're sleeping together?"

Brock stared at her. "Reba, they know we're sleeping together. That's typically what married people do."

"We're _married_? How drunk did you get me?" Reba exclaimed. "You know polygamy is illegal, right?"

Raising an eyebrow, Brock questioned, "Polygamy? What the…and what do you mean by 'how drunk did I get you'?"

"That's right, you butthead!" Reba snapped. "There isn't enough desperation I could _feel_ that would make me take advantage of _you_!"

Brock got out of bed and gripped her shoulders. "Reba, what has gotten into you?"

"Don't you see how bad this is? What if Barbara Jean finds out?" Reba asked.

Confused, Brock replied, "Who's Barbara Jean?"

"What…how…" Reba stuttered, shaking off Brock's hands. What was going on here? Letting out another deep breath she demanded, "What kind of sick joke is this, Brock? Did you have the kids move in the furniture overnight to make me think I've time traveled, or dreamed the past six years, or…"

Brock directed her back to the bed. "Honey, go back to sleep. You obviously need rest. I'll take the kids to school."

"No, Brock, listen to me!" Reba protested. "This is not right!"

Brock gave an exasperated moan. "How is this not right?"

"Well, I mean…" Reba trailed off. She was startled to realize that maybe he had a point. "You know what, I'm going downstairs to make myself a cup of tea. Maybe I'll wake up from this psychotic dream world."

* * *

Reba was relieved to see her same old living room. She did notice some differences, though. The Christmas decorations she'd taken down yesterday were still up, in different spots. Looking at them at raising an eyebrow, she continued on to the kitchen and made her way to the counter. She had to rummage around for a mug and a tea bag. The "tea triangle" that Barbara Jean had instituted during her brief stint as Reba's maid was no longer there.

Waiting for the water to boil, Reba sat at the island to try to figure this out. Was she really in the past? Was that even possible? At this point, she was ready to believe anything. She despised being confused and unaware of what was going on. Something she must have developed when an affair and a teen pregnancy occurred right under her nose.

She had to be dreaming. Yeah, that was it. Why didn't she think of that before? It made perfect sense. She'd had dozens of dreams where the past six years never happened. But…they usually weren't this clear, just vague happy memories. She was normally part of the fantasy too, playing the role of mother and wife. Still, this _had_ to be a dream. What was the harm in going along with it?

Smiling to herself, she got out of her seat when the tea kettle whistled. She reached for a pot holder, she stopped. _If this is a dream,_ she thought, _I can't get hurt. Heck, why not?_ Leaving the pot holder where it was, she grabbed the handle. "Oh, ouch, _shoot_!" She screamed, holding her now-burnt hand. _Okay, so I guess this isn't a dream…_

_Then what is it?_

"Mom, you could've used a pot holder. I hear they're very handy."

Reba glanced up at Cheyenne, who must've walked in when she wasn't looking. "Oh, I know, I just…wasn't thinking," she replied sheepishly. Taking a minute to look at her eldest daughter, Reba noted that there was something different about her. It was hard to tell, but Cheyenne looked…younger. "Cheyenne, you feeling okay?"

"Sure, why?" Cheyenne asked, wrinkling her brow. "I don't look sick or something, do I? Oh, God, that cannot happen today. If I throw up in public, that'll give my opponents more ammunition against me!"

Reba tilted her head. "Opponents?"

"For Junior Prom, duh!" Cheyenne answered. "I've only been talking about for weeks! God Mom, what's up with you?"

"That's what've been trying to figure out," Reba muttered.

Shaking her head, Cheyenne went on, "Anyway, I need to ask you something. Since it's like, so totally pathetic for a junior to be driven to school by a parent, can I get a ride with Christine? At least until the votes are in."

"Um, yeah, sure," Reba responded, massaging her temple. "When you said school, you meant _high_ school?"

Cheyenne nodded slowly. "Yes, Mom. Maybe I should be the one asking you if you're feeling alright."

"No, I'm fine, just...I'm guessing the names Van and Elizabeth don't sound familiar?" Reba questioned.

Cheyenne gasped. "I _knew_ Van was going out with that slut in his history class! The reason I don't sleep during that class is to run interference! I mean, God, how many times can a girl drop a pencil without being totally obvious…wait, how do you even _know_ about Van? I've only had a crush on him for like a week!"

"Oh, um, I…" Reba gave a nervous laugh. _That went well._ "Um, Kyra told me about it when she read your diary!"

"That little sneak! She is _so_ dead when I get home!" Cheyenne yelled.

Reba was getting a headache. She needed to have her tea in peace. Ushering her daughter to the back door, she urged, "Well, kill her when you get home. Go to school now."

"Okay, be that way. Don't make me breakfast," Cheyenne huffed.

"What?" Reba asked, then mentally smacked herself. Of course! Before she got a job, she made breakfast for the kids every day. "Sorry, sweetie. I, ah, woke up a little late. Get breakfast at school. You need money?"

"Yeah, thanks," Cheyenne answered, a bit concerned when it took her mother longer than usual to find her purse. "Thanks Mom. I'll be home late. Got drill team practice."

"Have a good day at school," Reba called, watching her eldest daughter walk out. When Cheyenne closed the door behind her, Reba set down her tea and ran to the living room. She had to find out once and for all if she was in the past, or if her family managed to pull of a clever and extravagant joke.

She was betting on the former, but it couldn't hurt to check.

Running to the TV, she checked first to see if there was a tape in the machine. Anyone who bothered with buying her old furniture would be smart enough to dig up an old news broadcast. Satisfied that the machine was empty, she turned the TV on and switched to the news.

Reba glanced at the left-hand box on the corner where the date and the time was always displayed. "January tenth, at least it's the same date…"

She froze, however, when she spotted the year. It read 2001.

"No!" Reba shouted, throwing the remote into the couch out of pure aggravation. "It's 200**_7_**! Seven, seven, seven, seven, seven, seven…"

:"What's the matter, Mom? Miss the lotto by one number again?"

Scared, Reba jumped. She turned to find Kyra and Jake coming down the stairs. The sarcastic comment, of course, had been Kyra's. "Let me guess," Kyra continued, "that number was seven?"

"Something like that," Reba replied, her jaw dropping a second time once she got a good look at her two youngest children. They were even younger than usual. Jake appeared to be about six, and Kyra was no older than twelve. She shouldn't be surprised, considering that it was 2001. Yet, it stunned her a little to see her kids…as kids, something she never thought she would get to see again. Her emotions getting the better of her, tears welled up in her eyes as she went over and wrapped her kids in a hug. "Oh my Lord, you two are so darn cute! I forgot how cute you were! I could just squeeze you to death!"

"You're halfway there," Kyra' breathed, wriggling out of her mother's arms.

Laughing, Reba let them go, tears now streaming down her face. "Sorry about that."

"What's with Mom?" Jake asked Kyra, giving his mother a worried look.

Kyra waved a hand before plopping herself on the couch. "Don't get too anxious, Jake. It's something all women go through once a month. You'll find out about it when you're older."

"I can't wait," Jake deadpanned.

Reba crossed her arms in indignation. "It is _not_ my…"

"Whatever," Kyra replied, refocusing her attention on the TV.

For the first time, Reba noticed that Kyra was still in pajamas and a robe. "Hey, shouldn't you be dressed for school?"

"Don't have it. Teachers are having a meeting or something," Kyra explained.

Reba glanced at Jake. "Should we believe her?"

"No!" Jake answered, shaking his head.

"Good man," Reba said, smirking at Kyra. "Your heard him. I'll give you five minutes to give yourself up before I call the school."

Kyra gave her a puzzled stare. "Mom, you've known about this for a week. You wrote it down on your calendar."

"Well…" Reba stammered. She wanted to maintain some pride here, but chances were that Kyra was right. "Um, I'm gonna drive Jake to school. You better get dressed, 'cause I'm calling school the minute I get home."

Kyra didn't budge. "Uh huh. Happy Anniversary, by the way."

"_What_?" Reba managed to exclaim as Jake pulled her out the door.

* * *

A/N: Just a few things I wanted to mention.

-Thanks for all the reviews! I'm glad I got the characters down!

-I'm not doctor. At least half, or all, of the medical jargon is probably wrong. But whatever, that's what fanfiction's for, right?

-As I said before, I'm not familiar at all with Reba's "pre-divorce era" life. Her anniversary may or may not be January 10th for all I know. And, to preserve my sanity by not rewriting the entire story, I honestly don't want to know.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

A half hour later, Reba and Kyra were relaxing in front of the TV. Reba had made the call to the school when she got back, and they confirmed that yes, classes were dismissed that day. After that, Kyra couldn't help but be a little smug.

Reba didn't care, though. Kyra's parting words were driving her crazy. _Lord, why today of all days?_ Reba thought. _Couldn't You have brought me back to Christmas? Or my twenty-first birthday. Yeah, that would've been fun. But why, dear Lord _why_, my last anniversary with Brock? Did I do something bad? Am I an evil person? The fact that I smack people upside the head sometimes does not make me evil…This day is going to be torture! Yeah, sure, he's gonna forget that today's our eighteenth anniversary, but then…he's gonna want to _kiss _me! I just can't…_

The mere thought of kissing her ex-husband made her shiver run down her spine. She wasn't sure that meant she was dreading it or looking forward to it.

It wasn't only the kissing though. This anniversary was the last straw, the day that put their marriage on the rocks. The day that led to Barbara Jean coming into their lives.

Noting her mother's anxious expression, Kyra turned off the TV and faced her. "Mom, what's going on?"

"What do you mean, sweetie?" Reba asked, her voice cracking from built-up panic.

Kyra folded her arms. "Please. You've been acting weird all morning. It doesn't take a genius to figure out that something's wrong."

"You always were the perceptive one," Reba sighed. She's been planning on not telling _anyone_ that she was from the future. _From the future,_ she scoffed,_ sounds like some Disney Channel show._

However, right then, seeing how concerned Kyra was…well, she could always use an ally. Reba went to stand in front of the TV, clenching her hands in nervousness. "What I'm about to tell you might seem a little…crazy, insane, like I need to be checked in to a mental institution. But, I swear this is true. It's not a joke or anything like that. I probably wouldn't believe it myself, but please keep an open mind."

She'd expected some kind of comment. Instead, Kyra sat there giving Reba her undivided attention.

"Okay then," Reba continued, becoming very uncomfortable. Part of her wished that Kyra would say something, anything. "Here it is…this, isn't right," she stated, waving her arms around to indicate her surroundings. "To me at least. Cheyenne is supposed to be married with a child. Your father and I are supposed to be divorced, for six years. In my head he's remarried and has a son with his new wife, who actually caused…you know what, we won't go there right now."

Kyra wore a blank stare, obviously trying to make sense of what she was being told. "Wait…so you expect me to believe you live in a psycho alternate reality where Cheyenne is all grown up already and has a kid?"

"Not exactly," Reba said, giving a short nervous laugh. "This all happens in six months. What I'm trying to tell you is that…to me, everything is wrong because…I've lived it already. Because _I'm_ supposed to be in the year 2007."

Shifting positions on the couch, Kyra looked up at Reba, attempting desperately not to seem too amused. "Oh really. Well, if that's true, where's the _real_ Mom? Do you turn into an evil scientist in the future and figure out how to push people out of their bodies?"

"No! Well, I'm not an evil scientist, but frankly, I'm not sure where Reba is…whoa, that was weird. Never thought I'd say that sentence," Reba remarked. Kyra did have a valid point however. Where _was_ her former self? Gasping, it hit her where her alter ego might have gone. _Is she…in 2007? Boy I feel bad for her…me…well, whatever!_

While Reba was worrying about the present, er, future, Kyra got up and headed for the stairs. "Nice try, Mom. But if Cheyenne didn't fall for the old 'little invisible men took your cheerleading outfit' when you ruined it in the wash, I'm not gonna fall for this."

"Kyra, wait, I can prove it!" Reba insisted, getting a sudden brainstorm. She remembered this day down to the last moment. With that knowledge, she could even convince Kyra she was psychic if she wanted too…but while that could be useful, she'd stick to the time travel thing.

Kyra paused and turned just as she reached the stairs. "Oh, I dare you."

"Fine. In about five minutes…" Reba began, checking her watch and directing Kyra so she had a good view of the stairs. "Brock is going to come walking down the stairs."

"Like he does _every_ morning?" Kyra retorted.

Reba held up a hand. "He'll be in a good mood…"

"You could've taken care of that last night," Kyra smirked.

"Let me finish!" Reba snapped. "But it won't be because of our anniversary. He'll ramble on about how it's such a nice day, he can't wait to head to the golf range during his lunch break. When I ask him if he has any other plans today, he'll say no, that's pretty much it. Then I'll oh-so-sweetly remind him of our anniversary."

Kyra wasn't impressed. "He forgets your anniversary every year."

"Yes, but he won't admit it, and before you say it I know that happens every year too, but listen," Reba went on. "He'll turn all pink with embarrassment, then stutter on for a few minutes. Then, here's the thing that should convince you. He'll think for a few seconds, and finally he'll bring up a date we went on when we were just out of college. It will be the one where he took me for a picnic in a nearby park."

Kyra tilted her head. "Okay, if all that happens, I'll start to believe you."

"That's good, but I've got one more that will definitely convince you," Reba replied. "It's going to rain later."

"Yeah right," Kyra commented. "Houston has been in a dry spell for about a month!"

Reba nodded. "Took everybody by surprise, if I remember correctly. Your cheapskate dad wanted to save water bills, but the previous night I'd made him agree to finally turn on the sprinklers after a week of brown grass. He was so mad when it rained…kinda funny, actually."

"Mom, you're starting to freak me out," Kyra said, going to the stairs. "I'm going to my friend's house. Unless you want me to come with you when you check into the loony bin."

Reba put a hand on her shoulder. She heard Brock's footsteps – this was it. "Just stand here and watch the show. You'll think you need to go to a loony bin too."

"Morning, girls," Brock greeted in a chipper voice as he came down the stairs, fixing the cuff on his dress shirt. He gave Kyra a kiss on the cheek, and Reba one on the lips.

Reba's heart leapt in her throat. Swallowing, she breathed, "Morning."

"Morning, Dad," Kyra replied, raising an eyebrow at Reba's awkward response.

Going to the closet, he grabbed his briefcase. "Honey, I think I'll skip breakfast. I want to get to work early so I can take a long lunch and head to the golf range. It's so nice today – the weather channel was sayin' that we should be getting rain next week. But, Reba, go ahead and turn on the sprinklers. You just love wasting my money."

It was then, after he was finished talking, that Reba registered that the "honey" had been directed at her. "Oh, well…" _Get yourself together, woman._ "Um, so, you planning on doing anything else today? Anything…special?"

"No, not really," Brock answered. "But a bunch of the guys at work were thinking of getting dinner…"

"So you'd rather have our anniversary dinner with them?" Reba interrupted, her tone suddenly harsh.

Brock froze, then let out a fake laugh. "Oh, Reba, you…you know I-I was just kidding. Of course I…have plans…for our dinner…"

"Really, what plans? And don't pull that 'it's a surprise' bit from last year," Reba asked. This had all happened the first time around too, so Brock's answer should be the same.

Brock gave her a weak smile. "I wouldn't think of it. Uh…um….y-you remember that time…when we were dating…"

"There were a lot of times when we were dating, Brock," Reba pressed, finding unexpected pleasure in seeing him squirm again. She forgot how much she enjoyed that.

"That we had a picnic!" Brock blurted. "We, ah…it was our senior year, we were celebrating the last week before Spring Break, and it…was….nice! And _that's_ what we're doing tonight, we're having a picnic. And I can't tell you anything else 'cause I want to save some semblance of the nice surprise I had planned for you! I mean, do you really think I would forget this year, of all years, our…"

"Eighteenth," Reba supplied.

"Eighteenth anniversary! I knew that!" Brock finished, completely exhausted. He then gave her a long, passionate kiss. "I love you, Reba."

_Oh my Lord,_ Reba thought, in a total daze. Her head spinning, she stuttered, "I-I….I….um…"

He grabbed his suitcase and nearly bolted out the door.

"Wow."

Reba almost jumped out of her skin. She'd forgotten that Kyra was there. "I…I need some water." Her tongue felt like sandpaper. She ran to the kitchen, got some water from the sink and downed it in one gulp.

It was burning her inside having to relive this day. When this happened the first time, she fell for it, hook, line and sinker. She'd naively convinced herself that she should believe him, that he had only pretended that he forgot, and when it started to rain during the day that he would do everything he could to find a restaurant for them.

But the day had ended in disaster. He'd been busy with patients all day and worked through lunch. He never noticed that it was pouring outside. And he got so tied up that he even forgot to get together a picnic basket when he drove home from work. When every restaurant in town was packed – that day was Friday, after all – he and Reba wound up arguing the entire night.

And even with that knowledge, and the memory of all the rotten things he would do in the future…she'd barely been able to keep her knees from buckling when he kissed her. For that first time in her life, she was more mad at herself than at Brock.

She looked up to find Kyra standing on the opposite side of the counter, her face full of pity. "You…you and Dad are really going to get divorced?"

"Yes," Reba sighed, the joy of having Kyra believe her overcoming her other emotions for the moment. Going over and giving her a hug, Reba questioned, "What's with the face, honey?"

Kyra pulled away, looking Reba in the eye. "You and Dad. You said that in your time you've been divorced for six years. But…you still love him, don't you? Even though he married another woman."

Reba didn't even hesitate as she wrapped Kyra in another hug. "Yes, baby, I do. Will. Oh Lord, I hate time traveling."

* * *

"So what about me?" 

"What do you mean?" Reba asked. She and Kyra were in a booth at a local diner. On an impulse, Reba had suggested they go out for breakfast. It seemed like she never got to spend time with her youngest daughter anymore. True, her youngest daughter was a lot younger than she was used to, but quality time was quality time, and she would take it where she could get it.

Taking a bite out of her eggs and washing it down with a sip of her chocolate milk, Kyra explained, "Dad gets married to this Barbara Jean person. Cheyenne has a husband and a five-year-old daughter. What happens to me?"

"I don't know if I should tell you," Reba answered. When the response first popped into her head, it had meant to come out as a joke. Now she wasn't so sure. The more she thought about it, the more she realized that maybe she shouldn't have told Kyra as much as she did. "In all those time travel shows and movies, the person time traveling always says they can't reveal too much or it might change the future. And I'm not entirely sure this is a dream. I might go back to a very different 2007."

"Is that bad? I mean, is there anything about me you want to change?" Kyra reasoned.

For a second, Reba reflected on the Kyra she knew. "Okay, you're seventeen, you have your own band."

"That's awesome! Can I drive?" Kyra inquired.

Reba massaged her temple, briefly remembering when she taught Kyra how to drive, and Barbara Jean "helped". "Oh yes, you can drive. And you've recently gone Goth. Black clothes, pale skin, sulky demeanor…although you were always sulky, so I can't blame the clothes."

"Boy, don't I sound like a gem," Kyra muttered. .

_Oops_. She hadn't meant to make Kyra's future self sound so…bad. "No, no, honey don't get me wrong. You're a wonderful person! Granted, sometimes you're a pain in the butt with your snippy insults, and you love to make fun of Cheyenne and Van…"

"Van is Cheyenne's husband, right?"

"Right," Reba replied. "But deep down you are a caring person. Jake really looks up to you. I remember, Barbara Jean and Brock were in a fight, and you went out with her every night to keep her from moping around the house."

Kyra laughed. "That doesn't sound like something I would do."

"Believe me, I was as surprised as you are," Reba agreed. "But you do show your kind side. Your band is doing really well, too. You get to play at the USO to send off soldiers for Iraq."

Pausing, Kyra inquired, "Iraq? Why would soldiers be going there?"

"For the war, of…._oh_," Reba gasped, realizing what she'd just let slip. This was early 2001, _pre_-September 11. It suddenly occurred to her that if she took the right steps, _she_ could prevent the attack on the World Trade Center. _Yeah, right, what're you gonna do, call up the president and try to convince him that you're from the future? It was hard enough convincing a twelve-year-old, for Pete's sake._ "Never mind. Um, waiter, can I get another coffee?"

"Wait, what…I don't want to know," Kyra sighed, taking another sip of her chocolate milk as a waiter poured Reba some more coffee. Putting her glass down, she narrowed her eyes at the doorway. "Mom, some strange guy is walking towards our table?"

Reba turned around and let out another gasp. _Brian! What is he doing here? I'm not supposed to meet him for another two years! Does he…remember me, somehow?_

"Hello, ladies," Brian greeted, kindly taking no notice of Reba's agape mouth. "As you may not have noticed, every seat in this place is occupied. I'm really late for a meeting, but I am ravenous and this place doesn't do takeout. Would you mind if I sat with you?"

It took Reba a long moment to find her voice. She couldn't believe it. – what were the chances? "No, not at all. We're just about done here anyway."

"Oh, no, don't rush because of me!" Brian insisted. "I know this is a little weird, but I really love this place, come practically every morning. And every other table is either filled with….old people or mothers with young kids. Either way you're sitting next to stinky diapers."

While Kyra cracked up, Reba allowed herself a small laugh. She couldn't flirt, _at all_. Not only was he technically her ex-boyfriend, she was _married_. "Well, I assure you we are clear of all bodily odors."

"My nose thanks you," Bran chuckled. He then stuck out his hand. "My name's Brian."

_This is so weird,_ Reba thought as she took his hand. "Reba."

"Mine's Kyra," Kyra shook his hand. "And before you hit on her, yes, she is my mother. No, she doesn't look like she could be my sister. And yes, she's married."

"Kyra!" Reba chided, her cheeks red with embarrassment.

Brian raised an eyebrow. "Thanks for the warning, and your mother is a stunning woman, but I honestly do just want breakfast." To prove his point, he waved over a waitress. "Hi, um I'll have coffee and a waffle, thanks. Oh, and give me the check for these two lovely women."

"Right away," the waitress said, walking away.

Reba stared at him. "You're too kind, but I believe I will be paying for that check when it comes."

"Oh come on. If it weren't for you, I would've had to wait on line for a half hour," Brian argued. "Then I would've been late for work, and I would've lost the same amount of money. Besides, I'm a laywer you know. I can afford it."

Reba laughed. "Please. You make documentaries. You can hardly afford to be picking up the checks of strange women." Brian's jaw dropped, and it was a second later that Reba realized what she'd said. _Oh Lord._ Giving a nervous laugh, she added, "You know what, why don't we split the check. Here, this should cover it."

Throwing the money on the table, she grabbed Kyra's hand and made a beeline for the nearest exit. Once they got to the car, Kyra breathed, "Mom…do you know him from the future? Who was that?"

Taking deep calming breaths as she started the ignition, Reba replied, "If I don't get a glass of water to cool myself down, he's a panic attack waiting to happen."


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

_January 2007_

Sitting next to Barbara Jean in the waiting room, Brock fought to stay awake. He, his wife, and Kyra remained at the hospital the entire night. Cheyenne and Van wanted to stay, but Elizabeth needed to be home. It was better for Van to be home anyway. He needed to wind down after his emotional meltdown earlier.

They'd taken Henry under their care as well, since Barbara Jean refused to leave her best friend's side. She would've gone with Henry of course, but since the couple offered she didn't refuse. Jake had school the next day, and Brock made him go for the sake of distracting the boy's mind from his injured mother.

Kyra was also ordered to attend school. However, one of her icy looks sent in Brock's direction took care of that. Needless to say, at the moment she was sitting across from him and Barbara Jean, listening to her MP3 player and reading a book.

Doing a double take, Brock realized she was no longer reading her book. It was still open on her lap, but she had a far-off expression on her face. "Kyra, honey, what's the matter?" When a minute passed and there was no response, he waved a hand front of her eyes. "Kyra?"

"What?" Kyra asked, snapping out of it.

Brock wrinkled his brow in concern. "Are you okay?"

"Um, yeah," Kyra replied, her tone not very reassuring. Holding her hand to her head, she explained, "I've just been getting a weird feeling all morning. I know this is going to sound nuts, but it's like…never mind."

Deciding to let her go back to her book, Brock returned to the golf magazine he had picked up. Any prodding would undoubtedly result in him on the receiving end of a sarcastic comment.

Brock soon lost interest in the magazine and turned his attention to his wife. He had to smile. Her head back and resting on her shoulder, she had her eyes closed…and her mouth open with saliva flowing from it. To complete the picture, she was snoring. Loud enough that other people in the waiting room were staring.

Giving her a gentle prod, Brock said, "Come on Barbara Jean, wake up."

"How's Reba?" Barbara Jean asked as soon as her eyes flew open.

Brock held back a chuckle at her comedic reaction. "Honey, you have to go home. Get some rest. I'm sure Henry misses you."

"No! I won't abandon my best friend," Barbara Jean protested, slapping the arm rests with the palms of her hands.

The action caused saliva to shoot from her mouth into his eye. Disgusted, Brock wiped it before he reasoned, "Barbara Jean, you were up all night thanks to that damn free coffee they serve in the lounge. You need to go to sleep. Reba doesn't know if you're here or not. In fact, I think she'd want you to go home."

"Alright, then if that's the case you come with me," Barbara Jean challenged.

Brock paused. Everybody had their own reasons for staying with an unconscious loved one. What were his? Maybe it was his guilt. Or maybe it was that he knew he wouldn't be able to do anything at home anyway because he'd be thinking about Reba. Still, it couldn't hurt to take his own advice and clean up a little. "Okay, go to the car. I'll…I'll be there in a minute. Kyra, I don't suppose you want us to take you home?"

"No thanks," Kyra replied, not even taking her eyes off her book.

Once Barbara Jean rounded the corner, Brock stepped into his ex-wife's room. Closing the door behind him, he approached the bed. She was so…fragile. Her skin was pale, she looked thinner somehow, and there were several needles stuck in both of her arms.

The doctor said he was sure that she would come out of it in a few days. Still, he knew that the doctor couldn't be one-hundred percent positive. What if Reba didn't wake up for weeks, or months or…he couldn't think about any longer than that.

What would happen to them, the family? They couldn't survive without Reba holding everything together. She solved everyone's problems; he wasn't afraid to admit it. Reba was the family's couple's counselor, therapist, babysitter, and housekeeper all rolled into one. She always knew the right thing to do when no one else knew or wanted to do it. And if they didn't do the right thing, she made sure they did it.

Wiping a stray strand of red hair that had fallen into her eyes, Brock took her hand in both of his. "Reba, I don't know if you can hear me. I mean, for your sake I would hope you're not aware of this and in pain, but I hope my words reach you some how. I've got something to say.

"I know the doctor said you would be fine. But doctors can be wrong. Hell, I'm a doctor and I'm wrong all the time. The bottom line is, we're all worried sick. We need you, Reba. Don't quit on us. You're a survivor…I never thought that anything could pull you down. Don't prove me wrong. I know you love doing that but for the sake of your health I think you can put bitter feelings aside.

"If it helps…I'm sorry. I'm sorry that my stupidity put you here. And if you never want to forgive me, it's okay. Just know that I love you, Reba. We love you. Please come back to us."

With that, Brock gently placed her hand back down. He looked at her one last time, shook his head in disbelief, and closed the door on his way out.

* * *

_January 2001_

In the car on their way home, Reba told Kyra more about the future as she drove. The more she thought about it, the more she didn't give a dang about it. So what if she told Kyra? She trusted her youngest daughter to keep her mouth shut. As long as Kyra didn't do anything to influence the future, there wouldn't be problem. Besides, it was nice to talk about her at times depressing life to someone who was actually listening with interest. It seemed like she always had to hear everyone else's problems without the chance to vent her own.

Kyra was trying to understand the future with little success. "Wait, Dad and his new wife live right down the street? Why?"

"I've asked myself that many, many times," Reba sighed. "Well, you know how I told you that Barbara Jean thinks I'm her best friend?"

"Yeah?"

Reba smirked. "In that same twisted frame of mind she thought it would be a good idea to live right down the street."

"Gotcha."

Laughing, Reba continued, "I guess it's okay now. I lock my door a hell of a lot more often though. I can't tell you how often I'll be in no mood to deal with them and one of them will just barge…"

"Mom?" Kyra asked, giving her mother a concerned look.

_That was odd_, Reba thought. For a second there the road in front of her had…wavered, like a dream sequence in a TV show. She was…dizzy, and she could feel a massive headache coming on. _What's wrong with me?_

Shaking her head, she refocused her attention on the road. "Nothing, baby. I just…I just…"

"Mom, look out!" Kyra screamed, grabbing the steering wheel and turning it so they avoided the oncoming truck. "Have you gone kamikaze in the future or something?"

Reba blinked her eyes over and over again to keep them open. "I'm sorry Kyra. I don't know what's going on. All of a sudden I just got lightheaded."

"Want me to use your cell to call 911?" Kyra offered, already reaching for Reba's purse.

Putting a hand over the purse, Reba insisted, "I'll be fine. I swear. Let me pull over for a minute and I'll be al better." She parked in a nearby lot, taking the first spot she saw. The second she shifted the car to park the rested her head on her hands, which she had placed on the top of the wheel. "Kyra, do your momma a favor. Run into that gas station over there and get some aspirin and a bottle of water."

"Sure Mom. I'll be back as fast as I can," Kyra promised, taking ten dollars out of the purse and getting out of the car.

Reba barely kept her eyes open long enough to see her daughter enter the small store. Her head hurt. No, hurt didn't cover it. It was _pounding_ with pain, jolts of pure agony shooting through her skull. This was the headache of all headaches, the kinds that stood around and made fun of sinus migraines.

_Go away,_ Reba pleaded. _Please, please go away. I can't deal with this right now._

Instead of obeying, it intensified until there was a blinding white light. When it cleared, instead of seeing the dashboard in front of her, all she saw was the same white.

It took her a minute to realize she was staring at a ceiling. She could hear the beeps of a machine nearby, and there were shooting pains in both her arms. _Where am I?_

"Reba, I don't know if you can hear me. I mean, for your sake I would hope you're not aware this and in pain, but I hope my words reach you some how. I've got something to say."

_Brock!_ Reba recognized the voice in an instant. Why was he in her head? _How_ was he in her head? What the hell was going on here?

She couldn't see him. Though she desperately tried to turn her head, she found herself unable to move her neck or any part of her body. It was like…she was someone else, but in the exact same position her body was in.

He was holding her hand, though. She could feel that.

Worse yet, other than that first line she couldn't understand a word he was saying. She managed to catch the odd "we need you" or "I love you," but that was it.

_I can't hear you!_ She wanted to scream.

The next clear words she heard both stunned and perplexed her. "Just know that I love you, Reba. We love you. Please come back to us."

"Mom! Mom! Mom!"

"How c an I come back…" Reba mumbled, still slumped over the steering wheel. "How can I come back? Tell me!"

"_Mom_!"

Reba finally snapped out of it, once again in the car, Kyra giving her shoulder frantic shoves. "It's okay, Kyra. Momma's gonna be fine. Did you get that aspirin?"

When Kyra handed over the bottle and the water without saying a word, Reba looked up at her daughter. She was surprised to find that Kyra looked as if she was about to cry. "Aw, baby, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you," Reba apologized, putting down the aspirin and water before wrapping her in a hug.

"You did," Kyra admitted, wiping away a tear that manage to slide down her cheek.

Once they broke apart, Reba swallowed one of the aspirin, gulped down some water and started the ignition. She let out several deep breaths, then slowly pulled out of the parking lot.

As soon as she reached the next light, rain started to come down.

"Oh my God!" Kyra exclaimed. "It's raining! Mom, you were right!"

_I love hearing that,_ Reba thought, sighing with content. She was still shaken by…whatever it was, but the rain had a calming effect on her. Managing to keep her nerves together until they got to the house, Reba was feeling ten times better by the time she walked through the door. For five minutes, anyway.

"Mom, can you stay down here for a little while?" Kyra asked, running to the stares.

Putting her coat away, Reba turned to her and raised an eyebrow. "Why?"

"I, ah, haven't finished wrapping yours and Dad's anniversary present yet," Kyra answered with a sheepish smile.

Reba froze, her face still in it's questioning expression. "Oh…uh…sure. Go ahead. I promise I won't peek."

"Wait," Kyra replied. "Why should I bother? You probably remember what it is anyway."

Reba paused as she found herself stuck between a rock and a hard place. If she said she forgot what it was, which she did, Kyra would be insulted. But Kyra would be disappointed if she said she did remember it. "Um, of course I remember. But I loved getting it. Why don't you wrap it up and I promise I'll act surprised? Besides, what would we tell everyone else?"

"Didn't think of that," Kyra agreed. Cheered up, she dashed up the stairs to her room.

_My anniversary present,_ Reba mused, letting out another long sigh. _Oh boy, I can't wait._ It occurred to her that right at that moment, Brock was in his office not noticing the rain and forgetting their anniversary.

Then it hit her. What if she called him at work? She could tell him to turn around, see the rain and remind him to make reservations at a nice restaurant. They could have the anniversary they should have had.

But was that what she wanted? There was a chance that calling him could rekindle their relationship, resulting in a chain of events that would prevent them from getting divorced.

Could she take that chance? Would she?

Then Brock's words from the episode in the car resounded in her mind. "I love you, Reba."

Before she lost her nerve, she grabbed the phone receiver.

"Hey, Brock…have you looked out the window lately?"


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

"Honey, two plus three does not equal eight, and you know that," Reba chided, handing her son his pencil. Several hours after she made the call to Brock, she was helping six-year-old Jake with his homework. _It's been a long time since I've had to correct homework, never mind first grade math,_ Reba mused.

Though it was a strange day for her, everybody else was going about their normal routine. This meant that she had to pick Jake up from school, make snacks for the kids and wait for Cheyenne to get home from drill team practice. Just going through the motions of everyday life made her realize how much she missed it, and more importantly how much she took it for granted when she went through it the first time.

"Man, this is hard," Jake whined, taking the pencil and erasing the mistake. "I miss kindergarten."

"Don't we all," Reba laughed, going to look in the fridge. She needed to figure out what to make for dinner for the kids. Suppressing a chuckle that had risen in her throat, she made note that there was much more food in the fridge without Van to feed.

She spotted leftover red sauce that couldn't have been more than a day or two old. Deciding to make up a pot of spaghetti, she put the sauce on the counter and went back over to Jake. She glanced over his shoulder. "Jake! The six goes the other way. And make your eights a little thicker – if you turn that one sideways it kinda looks like the symbol for eternity."

"How appropriate," Jake muttered under his breath, rolling his eyes as he once again erased the incorrect numbers.

Shaking her head, Reba asked, "How do you know what 'appropriate' means?"

"I'm a smart kid," Jake shrugged. "And Kyra used it the other day when you said that Cheyenne looked like a slut in the skirt she was wearing."

_Oh Kyra_, Reba thought, trying not to laugh. "Remind me to explain to you later what a 'slut' is and why you shouldn't say it ever again."

"Okay," Jake said, going back to his homework.

For the next fifteen minutes or so she busied herself with cooking dinner. She had just dumped the spaghetti in when Cheyenne breezed through the back door, a look of annoyance on her face and her backpack nearly falling off her shoulder. _I'm almost afraid to ask,_ Reba mused. "Hey sweetie, how was practice?"

"Horrible, thanks to you!" Cheyenne spat, throwing her backpack on the table, causing Jake's homework to scatter. "It was a nightmare!"

"Hey!" Jake exclaimed, scrambling to pick up the papers.

Ignoring her brother, Cheyenne vented, "Talking to you this morning just got me thinking about how stupid Lizzie Morgan has had a crush on Van since Sophomore year. I try to look the other way when she 'accidentally' slams against him in the hallway, but there's only so many times you can blame it on a clumsy freshman!

"Finally, at practice today I snapped. I mean, she was walking around in front of Van where he was practicing with the football team and swinging her hips and I'm like, 'Hey, stop it, I like him,' and she's like, 'it's not like you're married to him.'"

Reba had to tell herself not to burst out laughing. "So what'd you do?"

"I…may have…called her the 'B' word…" Cheyenne trailed off with an anxious look at Jake. "We got into a huge slap fight and the coach suspended us for a week! Gee, thanks Mom!"

"You got suspended for a week?" Reba yelled, more out of guilt than anger. _Well, there's another thing about the past I changed. Reba 2, Past 0._

Cheyenne nodded. "Uh huh. In fact, where is Kyra? I'd like to personally thank her for telling you about that b…B and getting me all upset in the first place."

"Oh…uh…you know…I think she's at a friend's house. She may have come home – let me go check," Reba lied, running out of the kitchen and dashing up to Kyra's room. Once she reached her youngest daughter's room she shut the door behind her.

Kyra had been listening to music and doing her homework. When her mother burst in, she took off her headphones. "What's the matter with you?"

"There's, ah, something I need to 'fess up to," Reba answered. She then told Kyra what she'd said to Cheyenne this morning and why the incensed drill team member would be knocking on her door at any moment.

Kyra let out an exasperated sigh. "Thanks, Mom."

"I'm sorry, Kyra!" Reba said. "But if you take the fall for this, and I'm still in the past come your next payday, how does a five-dollar raise in your allowance sound?"

Kyra considered for only a brief second. "Like you just successfully bribed your kid to take the fall for something she didn't do."

"Thanks," Reba breathed.

* * *

Sitting at her vanity, Reba blocked out the sounds of her daughters arguing as she got ready for dinner that night. She would've stayed to defend Kyra, but after a few minutes the fight turned to other issues and she thought it was best to butt out.

_It's been a long time since I've gotten ready for a date,_ Reba sighed, applying her make up. With all the chaos going on she hadn't really had time to get back into the dating game. Whenever she even thought about picking up a guy somewhere, she'd be needed to baby-sit Elizabeth or help Jake with a school project he'd put off until the last minute. The point was that she spent so much time taking care of her kids and being a counselor to her ex-husband and his wife that she never had time to go on a date.

The fact that tonight's date was with Brock made the situation that much weirder. She was so used to insulting him that she wasn't sure she remembered how to enjoy an evening with him. What if she let something slip, or she called him a moron or an idiot or any one of the names she labeled him every day?

She needed to make a decision tonight. That call earlier to remind Brock about their anniversary had been made on impulse. It was a reflex, a result of her desire to keep on living her life the way it was now. Tonight was when she would decide if she really loved Brock enough to want to be married to him again, if she was actually that desperate to change the future.

It occurred to her that staying married might prevent the other major change in her family – the birth of Elizabeth. However, she'd quickly reasoned that her and Brock's status as a couple would have no effect on Cheyenne and Van's…at least, she hoped. She'd never forgive herself if her first grandchild wasn't born because of her selfishness.

"Ugh! Mom, your daughter is the most disrespectful little brat I've ever met!'

Cheyenne's exclamation as she burst into the room was accompanied by her banging the door open. It's crash into the adjoining wall caused Reba's hand to slip. Unfortunately, she'd been applying lipstick at the time. There was now a red streak across her cheek, making her look like she'd been slapped.

Turning to give her eldest daughter an exasperated glare, Reba exclaimed, "Cheyenne! You _mind_?"

"Oh, Mom, that is so not your color," Cheyenne replied, going over to the vanity and handing her mother a tissue. Taking a minute to examine Reba's assortment of lipsticks, she selected one and held it up. "Use this one. It's better with your skin color…which is actually a little on the pale side. Would you consider a going to a tanning salon?"

Rolling her eyes, Reba grabbed the tissue and lipstick and applied both accordingly. "Don't you have someone else to pick on? I think Jake's downstairs."

"I'm not picking on you. These tips are for your own good," Cheyenne insisted. "You want to look good for Dad, right?"

_You want to look good for Dad, right?_ The question resounded in Reba's head, making her stare at her eldest daughter in total bewilderment. At that moment she realized that dressing up for Brock would lead to compliments, which might lead to kissing which might lead to…

"Oh no!" Reba yelled, jumping out of her seat and pacing the room.

Cheyenne nearly lost balance, being so close to her mother's chair. "Was it something I said?"

"Yes, it was something you said! I'm going to have to have sex with Brock!" Reba shouted. _What was I thinking? _

Cheyenne's mouth dropped open at her mother's words. "Mom! What's wrong with you?"

"I can't do this!" Reba yelled.

Going over and putting her hands on Reba's shoulders, Cheyenne said, "Okay, you need to stop freaking out. What do you mean, you can't…do that with Dad? You're not…in the mood?"

"Oh, Cheyenne!" Reba shuddered, shaking off her daughter's hands.

Instead of being offended, Cheyenne went to study the contents of Reba's closet. "You know, Mom, a simple wardrobe change might fix that for you. Being all dressed up will do wonders for your self-esteem, and will make you feel sexy. Besides, it's not like you can wear that anyway."

"Why not?" Reba asked, looking down at her outfit – her best jeans, boots, and a nice silk blouse. She'd actually had fun picking out the ensemble. Since she was so used to her clothes from 2007, looking at the ones from 2001 was like having a whole new wardrobe.

Cheyenne turned to face her and raised an eyebrow. "Mom, it's your anniversary. Don't you want to get dressed up? This may be one of the last times you get to go out with Dad for a while – face it, I'm only babysitting Kyra and Jake 'cause my date cancelled on me. You know as well as I do that that doesn't happen too often."

"This is your dad, Cheyenne," Reba retorted. "His idea of a fancy restaurant is a place that doesn't have a dollar menu."

"Still, it _is_ your anniversary," Cheyenne pressed, pulling out a hangar from the closet.

Reba glanced at the black dress with apprehension. It came down to her ankles, with a V-neck and flowing, sheer sleeves. It'd been one of her favorites until a few years ago, when she'd outgrown it around the middle. "I don't know…"

"Come on, Mom. It's perfect. And you can wear it anywhere without looking too dressed up or not dressed enough," Cheyenne reasoned, holding the hangar out to her. "And you gotta wear it with your black heeled sandals."

Giving in, Reba grabbed the dress from her daughter's hand. "Fine. Now get out so I can change."

* * *

"He's here! Mom, Dad's home, and he's got _flowers_!" Cheyenne squealed, taking her mother's wrist and dragging her towards the stairs.

Reba yanked her wrist free just in time to steady herself before she tripped in her heels. "Cheyenne! Will you give me a minute? I have to get my purse."

"Oh, all right, I'll tell him you'll be down soon," Cheyenne conceded, running to meet her father at the door. Noting Reba's nervous expression, she paused. "Aren't you excited? Dad's home to take you out on a fabulous anniversary dinner. I mean, he is the love of your life."

_That's not what I'd call him, _Reba thought. She plastered on a smile. "Of course I am. I just need to get my purse."

"Okay," Cheyenne replied, giving Reba one last glance before going down the stairs.

Going back into her room, she found the purse she'd planned on wearing tonight and took it out of her closet. She deliberately took her time switching her stuff from her day bag to the purse; it gave her a little time to prepare herself for the night ahead. Looking in the mirror to check her hair, which she'd noticed sometime during the day had reverted back to it's cropped style, she slipped her purse over her shoulder and closed the door behind her as she left.

Kyra came out of her room as Reba was walking down the hallway. "Hey, Mom?"

"Yes, baby?" Reba asked, glad for the interruption.

Giving her mother a meaningful look, Kyra questioned, "Are you going to be…okay tonight? Technically, you and Dad haven't gone out in six years. You want me to call you in case it's a bust?"

"Aw, aren't you sweet," Reba said, putting an arm around her shoulders. "But I think I'll be fine, just gotta remember that the divorce never happened and that he _hasn't_ ripped my heart to shreds a million times…oh Lord, Kyra if you don't call me with an emergency before midnight I swear I'll kill you."

Kyra nodded. "Don't worry, you're covered."

"Thank you. Have fun tonight, and try not to drive your sister too crazy," Reba sighed, giving Kyra a quick hug before going back to the stairs.

Smirking, Kyra ran down the stairs before Reba reached the first step. "Dad! She's coming!"

_Here we go_, Reba thought, trying not to cringe. She started down slowly, not for the grand entrance but to give her stomach a chance to stop churning. Her family was waiting for her, with all three kids in the living room.

She let out a surprised breath when she saw that Brock was standing by the door in a suit. _What? When…how did he get his suit? Did he sneak in when I was out? But he couldn't have…_All of her thoughts became one big jumbled mess, however, when she noted the look he was giving her. That "she's-going-to-love-me-for-this" smile that had been on reserve for Barbara Jean for the last six years. The smile was also mixed with adoration as he noticed how she looked in her dress…something that also

When she finally reached the foyer, he handed her the flowers and gave her a kiss. "Happy anniversary, Reba. I love you."

"H-happy anniversary to you too," Reba stuttered, once again thrown off by the unexpected kiss. "I l-love…" _Nope, can't do it._ "The flowers. I love the flowers. Let me just go put these in water."

Brock raised an eyebrow at her strange behavior, but let it slide. "I'm glad you like them. You ready to go?"

"Yes, just gotta get water…" Reba trailed off, not sure if she need to get to the faucet more for the flowers or herself.

Cheyenne intercepted her mad dash for the kitchen, taking the flowers from her. "Mom, I'll take care of this. You and Dad should get an early start on your romantic evening."

"If you say so," Reba sighed, reluctantly handing over the bouquet. Turning back to Brock, she asked, "So, where we going?"

Brock wrapped an arm around her shoulders, guiding her to the door. "That's a surprise. You'll have to wait and see."

_I bet it will be a surprise to you too,_ Reba thought. She knew him too well. There was no way he could've gotten a reservation at last minute. He was probably planning on driving up to a random restaurant. Then, when they said they didn't have his name down, he would pretend to get all mad and they'd spend the night driving around Houston looking for some place decent. "I guess I will, won't I?"

"Mommy! We have presents for you and Dad," Jake interrupted, handing her a large piece of paper with crayon markings on it. "Happy anniversary!"

Reba smiled at the six-year-old's rendition of her and Brock having dinner together. "Aw, sweetie, it's great! It's goin' right on the fridge," Reba exclaimed, giving him a hug.

"Yeah. It's so good, we don't even need to bring a camera tonight," Brock joined in, giving Jake an affectionate clap on the shoulder.

Instead of replying, Jake turned to Kyra and stuck out his tongue. "See, Kyra? Told you it was good!"

"Here Mom and Dad! Happy anniversary!" Cheyenne exclaimed, getting a small rectangular box out from it's hiding place in the living room. She gestured to herself and Kyra. "It's from us."

Kyra glared at her sister. "I came up with the idea. I bought it. I wrapped it. I'm basically paying for it until you back up the stupid 'I-owe-you' note you gave me. What the hell is your definition of us?"

"Shut up, Kyra," Cheyenne whispered through gritted teeth. "I told you I'll pay you back!"

Reba laughed as she undid the wrapping paper. It was a gift certificate for dinner for two at one of her and Brock's favorite spots. "Yes, and be fair, Kyra. Cheyenne _did_ pick the restaurant."

"Yeah, I did…wait, how did you know that?" Cheyenne asked, giving Reba a surprised look.

_Whoops,_ Reba thought. Her kids' presents to them for their eighteenth anniversary had come screaming back to her when Jake gave her his picture. She noted that Kyra had rolled her eyes, obviously seeing that she had slipped up. "Oh…uh…"

"I wrote it in the card," Kyra sighed, once again covering her mother's mistake.

"You did?" Reba asked, looking over the tiny note card. Then she realized what Kyra was trying to do and mentally smacked herself. "Oh yeah, here it is – 'Mom, don't blame me if the food sucks. Cheyenne picked it."

"Really? Let me see," Brock asked, attempting to grab the card.

Panicked, Reba held on to the card when Brock took hold of it. She then made it look like her hand slipped so she could rip it down the middle. "Oh, look what I did. Well, it's the present that counts, isn't it? Come on Brock, let's go – don't want to miss our reservations."

"Reba, are you feeling alright? We can always make plans for another night and celebrate our anniversary at home if you're not feeling well," Brock offered, watching in confusion the way his wife stuffed the ripped card into her purse.

Cheyenne also watched her mother's nervous behavior and added, "Yeah, Mom. You've been acting weird all day."

"No, I'm fine, really," Reba insisted. She then kissed each of her children on the cheek before heading for the door. "Kyra, Jake, be good for Cheyenne, and go to bed when you're supposed to. I…we shouldn't be home too late."

Brock stopped her before she could reach the door. "Wait, it has to be a surprise." He then pulled a blindfold out of his pocket.

Reba raised an eyebrow. "You've got to be kidding me."

"What? Don't you trust me?" Brock asked.

He meant it to be rhetorical, as he'd already begun to fasten the blindfold around her eyes. However, Reba couldn't help but feel a little queasy. The truth was, she didn't trust him as far as she could throw him when it came to anything but their kids. "Brock, I don't know about this –"

But he'd already grabbed her arm and was leading her out the door.

* * *

He didn't take her very far. In fact, they hadn't even gotten in the car when they rounded the corner and he removed the blindfold.

"Oh, Brock…" Reba gasped, charmed by the scene he'd set up in their backyard. In the first place, the yard seemed huge to her since the tree house hadn't been built in it yet. The second thing her eye noticed was the middle of the now-huge clearing, in which Brock had placed a traditional picnic blanket. Only instead of traditional picnic basket, there were two place settings on trays and nearby catering pans covered with tin foil on burners.

All of it would have been soaking wet – after all, it was still pouring. Brock had been guiding her with one hand and holding an umbrella with the other. But it wasn't. It was sheltered by the party tent they'd bought for Cheyenne's birthday years earlier.

Reba gasped again as she realized what this meant. "But Brock…that tent's been buried in the garage for ages…it would've taken you hours to find it…"

"Which is why I dug it out last week just in case," Brock explained, then waiting for the full meaning of his words to sink in.

Gazing at him in shock, Reba stuttered, "B-but you forgot…this morning you were completely off guard…there was no way…I'm sorry Brock, but you're just not that good an actor."

"You really didn't think I could lie about our anniversary?" Brock asked, amused by her disbelief.

"I didn't say you can't lie. I said you can't act," Reba corrected. "There's a difference."

Brock laughed as he grasped her arm and pulled her under the tent. "What's the matter with you today, Reba? It seems like every time I talk to you, you're expecting me to screw up somehow."

_Force of habit_, Reba thought, barely able to keep the smirk off her face. "I don't know, I guess I don't feel like myself today."

"Could be the outfit," Brock joked, eyeing the formal dress she wore.

Reba sighed. "Cheyenne made me wear it. She insisted that I needed to dress up for the occasion. Little did she know that occasion would be a picnic in the backyard."

"Yeah, I know it's not exactly what you were expecting," Brock apologized, sitting down cross-legged in front of one of the settings. "But I know you would want something fancy. I wanted to do something romantic. This was the end result."

Careful not to trip over her dress as she sat down across from him, Reba grinned. "Well, I'd say you pulled it off very well." Then to herself, she muttered, "I can't believe I missed out on this the first time around."

"What was that?" Brock questioned, already pouring them both a glass of champagne from the bottle he'd gotten out of the nearby ice bucket.

Reba glanced up at him in panic. "Uh…I said…_ground_…it's cold here on the _ground_. Wow, that looks good," she covered, taking a large sip of the wine.

"I was going to make a toast, but uh, your way's good too," Brock admitted, looking down at his champagne.

Giving him a guilty smile, Reba wiped her mouth. "No no, say the toast. I'd love to hear it."

"Well, okay," Brock began, clearing his throat and holding up his glass. When Reba raised hers, he continued, "To managing to stand each other, love each other, and stay married for eighteen years. Let our next eighteen years be just as great. And I have to add, honey, there's no one I'd rather spend them with than you. Happy anniversary."

"Happy anniversary," Reba echoed quietly, clinking her glass against his. The champagne was bittersweet going down. He couldn't have any idea of how much irony his words held, but hearing him speak them was like a slap across the face. Once they dug in to their food, Reba looked at her surroundings another time. "You know, it is nice out here. Of course, I don't even want to think about what this humidity is gonna do to my hair in an hour, but the way the rain falls over the tent…it's like being under a waterfall. It really is beautiful, Brock."

"So are you. Did I mention how great you look tonight?" Brock replied, giving her a long, passionate kiss.

Swallowing hard, Reba moaned as she became wrapped up in the kiss. After they parted, she murmured, "This is wrong on _so_ many levels."

It really was, though. Throughout the meal, all she could think about was how she couldn't believe this was happening. She was under a tent having a picnic in the backyard in the rain with her ex-husband, while her sixteen-year-old daughter babysat her young kids in the house. Now more than ever she was convinced that this must be a dream.

As they ate, they managed to keep up a steady flow of conversation. Reba listened for the most part. It was interesting to hear him talk about his business and other areas of his life. Ever since she woke up in the past this morning, she'd been walking around in a fog, living by what other people told her. It was nice to be clued in, and to be able to match what he was saying with what she remembered about this time in their lives.

Not to mention it was weird, yet warming, to hear him compliment her and call her names like "honey" again. With the way he kept making her blush, it was almost enough to make her forget the torture and the heartache he would put her through in the next six years.

Reba's mind began to wander as they started on their dessert. She kept thinking about their original anniversary and trying to figure out how she couldn't have realized that he was just pretending to forget. _How could I not have known? How could I have been so quick to yell at him that I didn't notice he was kidding?_

She replayed the scene for the millionth time that day. _Okay, Brock came home from work…_

_Sitting on the couch waiting for him, Reba glanced up with a scowl on her face. She hadn't heard from him all day. Even on regular days he usually called to check in. "Well, looks like I owe Kyra five bucks."_

"_What?" Brock asked, an exasperated expression on his face. He threw his coat in the closet as he walked toward her._

_Reba stood to face him. "When you didn't call today, Kyra and I were wondering what happened to you. I suggested that you were run over by a car and your innards spewed all over the highway. She said you just forgot. Since your innards are obviously intact, I'll have to assume she's right. Unfortunately."_

"_Oh, right, sorry about that," Brock sighed, sinking into the easy chair. "It got really hectic at the office. I had a 10:30 root canal and those are never pleasant for anyone involved…what is with that eye thing?"_

_Raising an eyebrow, Reba demanded, "'That eye thing'?"_

"_You know, that thing where you glare at someone until…they wish they were dead?" Brock explained, _

"_Oh, that," Reba gave a sardonic laugh. "Is it working?"_

_Squirming under her gaze, Brock jumped up from his seat. "Jeez, Reba! I forget to call you all the time! What's with the third degree?"_

"_You forgot our anniversary, you mo_ron_!" Reba shouted, smacking him upside the head. "Twice in one day!"_

_Brock paused, rubbing the back of his head. "Oh, shoot, I'm sorry, honey. But it looks like we can't have that picnic anyway – did you notice the rain? I swear, I didn't realize it was pouring until I walked to the car without an umbrella."_

"_Yes…I…did…" Reba seethed, growing angrier by the minute._

"_I guess we could try to get a table somewhere, but it's late on a Friday. Maybe we could go rent some movies and have a romantic night at home," Brock suggested, going towards the kitchen._

_Reba was rooted to the spot. "Wait just a dang minute! Where the heck to you think you're going?"_

"_Oh, I need to stop in the backyard before we go anywhere," Brock answered. "I was using some of my power tools and I left them out. I need to put them away before they rust. Can you help me? The faster they're put away, the faster we can get out of here."_

_Slowly walking up to Brock, Reba clenched her fists. "Our anniversary plans are ruined, and all you care about are your dang power tools? I ought to slap you so hard your head swings all the way around."_

"_Reba…calm down…why don't we just go to the backyard and settle this there…" Brock suggested, backing up as she advanced._

_Reba's eyes were narrowed so much it looked like she had a uni-brow. "I don't care about your crap in the backyard, you inconsiderate mo_ron_…"_

Her jaw dropped in shock. _The backyard! He'd had this set up the whole time! How could I have been so blind?_ "Oh my Lord."

"What, honey?" Brock asked, giving her a concerned look. She'd interrupted him in the middle of a sentence.

"You…you…" Reba stuttered. "You really did have this set up the whole time. You really never forgot our anniversary."

Taking a sip of his champagne, Brock admitted, "Well, that's not entirely true. I remembered when I woke up this morning, but when I was at work it slipped to the back of my mind. I would've forgotten to change into my suit and pick up flowers if you hadn't called me…" He trailed off, realizing what he just said. "B-but the important thing is I remembered when I came down the stairs this morning and you started grilling me. I guess I can act better than you thought, huh?"

Reba shook her head in amazement and went back to eating her dessert. "It was the performance of a lifetime, I'll tell you that much."

"This is bugging you, isn't it?" Brock asked, noting the far-off expression she wore.

Sighing, Reba answered, "It was. I'll be okay."

"Oh my God," Brock said after a minute of silence. "You actually thought I forgot our anniversary, didn't you? I can't believe you would think that!"

Getting defensive, Reba retorted, "Well, can you blame me? You never remember our anniversary!"

"I can't believe you're saying this!" Brock exclaimed. "I _always_ remember our anniversary! I just pretend to forget every year because I thought it was a bit we had! Think about it – have we ever had an anniversary where I never wound up taking you somewhere nice?"

Reba stared at him, wide-eyed. "Oh…"

"Yeah, _oh_. You really have so little faith in me?" Brock questioned, a hurt look on his face.

"_No_…" Reba replied, not making eye contact.

"Reba," Brock pleaded, "Look me in the eye and tell me you trust me."

_Oh Lord, not that_…Reba thought. She struggled to look away but found she couldn't. "Okay, yes…no…I don't know, Brock."

"Well, then, let me ask you this," Brock snapped, anger in his tone. "I've been saying 'I love you' all day, and not once have you returned it. Reba…do you love me?"

Reba sucked in a breath and slowly let it out. She knew if he had asked her 2001-self this, she would've answered 'yes' in a heartbeat. But now, the truth was, she wasn't sure if she did love him, not in the way he was asking. She couldn't lie to him, but…she didn't want to tell the truth either. Not when everything was going so well. "Brock…"

"You know what, never mind," Brock interrupted, throwing down his napkin and standing. "I can tell by the look on your face."

Then he stormed out the backyard gate. She heard him start his car ignition and drive away.

Reba folded her arms on the tray and put her head down. _What did I do?_


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

Massaging her forehead, Reba forced herself to click on one more website. She had been using Cheyenne's computer all day to do research. There had to be _some_ way to get back to the present. After what happened with Brock last night, she wasn't too eager to continue living in this time period. Hopefully her past self would have a better idea of how to fix this mess.

She looked up as Kyra poked her head in the room. "Hey, sweetie. You finished with your homework yet?"

"Almost," Kyra began, sitting on her sister's bed across from her mother. "For English, we have to write a short story."

"That sounds like fun," Reba remarked, her attention split between Kyra and the computer.

Kyra shrugged. "I guess so. I'm not sure what to write about, though. Oh, wait, I have an idea," she exclaimed, a mischievous grin on her face. "Maybe I'll make it sci-fi. It can be about a kid who finds out her mother is really her mother from six years in the future."

"Kyra…" Reba warned, not the least bit amused.

Pretending to mull it over, Kyra nodded. "You're right. Too far fetched."

Reba turned in her chair and raised an eyebrow at her daughter. "Are you done?"

"Yeah, sorry. Been working on that one for the past hour," Kyra laughed. "So Mom, what are you doing, in Cheyenne's room, using Cheyenne's computer...when Cheyenne isn't home yet?"

"Because if I told Cheyenne why I wanted to use Cheyenne's computer, Cheyenne would think I'm insane," Reba retorted, defiantly clicking on another web page.

Intrigued, Kyra got off the bed and looked over Reba's shoulder. "What are you looking up?"

"Ways to get back to the future. I don't belong here, Kyra," Reba explained. "I'm supposed to be in my own time, living my life, going forward, not backward. However I got here, I have to find some way to reverse it. And, well, you can find anything on the Internet, right?"

Kyra scrutinized her mother's expression, then smirked. "This sudden epiphany wouldn't have anything to do with your date with Dad last night, would it?"

"How'd you guess?" Reba huffed, slouching against the hard-back chair.

"Instinct," Kyra replied. "Plus the fact that I saw Dad driving away in his car about an hour and a half after you left. Where'd you guys go, the backyard?"

"Yes. He…set up a picnic," Reba answered. She proceeded to relate every painful detail of the evening. "…and he just drove away. I suppose he got a room at some cheap motel."

Kyra sat back down on the bed and put her head in her hands. "What are you going to do now?"

"Get back to 2007," Reba answered, refocusing her attention on the computer screen.

Lifting her head up, Kyra gaped at her mother. "You? Running from problem? Man, the future really messed you up."

"No, it's not that, I just think my past self would be able to handle this better than…" Reba trailed off, the hand that had been on the mouse falling to her lap. "Okay, yeah, I'm a wimp. But what can I do? I don't love Brock. I can't say I do just because it would be easier! Besides, how would I explain my hesitation last night?"

Kyra pondered the question for a moment. "Well…you could always say you weren't feeling like yourself."

"Already used that one," Reba muttered. Then she got an idea. "But I could say I'm going through PMS! The mere mention of anything like that gets Brock all queasy. He'll drop the subject like it's a ball of fire."

Kyra chuckled. "Good idea. And if you think about it, you wouldn't really be lying to him. The you who's supposed to be here loves Dad. You'd be…pretending to be her."

"Well, it's a stretch, but I'll take it," Reba replied, glad to have a plan of action. She paused when she heard the front door slam downstairs. Panicking, she quickly shut off the computer and ran to the door.

Kyra smiled. "She's ba_ck_!"

"You, be quiet," Reba ordered, taking Kyra's wrist and guiding her into the hallway. "Cheyenne, is that you?"

Cheyenne's voice came up the stairs. "Yeah. Sorry I'm late! I stayed for practice."

"I thought you were suspended from drill team…oh," Reba stopped mid-sentence. Her eldest daughter wasn't alone.

Cheyenne dragged her latest boyfriend towards the stairs. "Mom, this is Van. Van Montgomery. He's on the football team."

"Oh, _that_ practice," Reba smirked, shaking the hand that Van held out.

Van gave a proud grin. "Yup. It's amazing how much Cheyenne loves football. Nice to meet you, Mrs. H."

"Nice to meet you too, Van," Reba replied. _Talk about déjà vu_, she thought.

Kyra reached around Reba and shook Van's hand. "Hey, I'm Kyra. Nice to meet ya, _bro_…ouch!"

"Watch it, Kyra," Reba muttered under her breath, elbowing Kyra in the stomach. "So, Van, what brings you here?"

Putting her arm through her boyfriend's, Cheyenne explained, "Well, we're having a little trouble in history class, so I thought it would be fun…I mean, better for the both of us if we studied together. See you later Mom, we'll be in the kitchen, studying."

"See you, Mrs. H!" Van called as Cheyenne pulled him into the kitchen.

Kyra shared a glance with her mother and scoffed. "Right, studying. And Jake's upstairs reading the encyclopedia."

* * *

The following Saturday, Reba was cleaning up in the kitchen after she'd made lunch for the kids. She had to admit she was adjusting to this new yet familiar lifestyle, especially after Brock forgave her and came home. There were several times during the week that she honest to God forgot she was from the future

In the middle of wiping down the counter, Reba paused. _Wait a sec. What did I just think?_ How could she forget she wasn't supposed to be there? Yet, on several occasions the lines between past and present blurred. She'd even given Brock a passionate kiss when he left for work one morning. _Dear God, what is happening to me?_

The kitchen was suddenly seemed darker, then was filled with a soft golden light. Whirling around, she had to shield her face as a figure appeared.

_This is getting ridiculous,_ Reba thought. _It's bad enough I'm in the past. Now I gotta deal with whoever this is too?_

"Reba."

"Oh my Lord…" Reba gasped. It was Terry Holloway, standing right before her eyes. It was her old college flame, the one she left to get together with Brock. She fondly remembered the weekend she and Brock drove up to his funeral four years ago. _Hold on. Funeral?_ "Oh my God. Am I dead?"

Terry shook his head. "No, Reba."

"B-but…you're _here_. Aren't you supposed to be dead?" Reba sputtered. It was definitely Terry, she was sure of it. She never could mistake that shaggy dark brown hair, the soft brown eyes, the moustache…and the clothes. Nobody but Terry would be wearing white cowboy boots, jeans, a blue flannel shirt and a white leather vest.

Laughing, Terry replied, "I am dead, don't worry about that. Heaven's nice. Truth be told, I was worried I'd end up in the, you know, other place."

"Truth be told, so did I," Reba remarked.

"God I've missed you," Terry admitted. He then wrapped her in a big hug, so much that they were both enveloped in the bright light.

"Well, I've missed you too," Reba chuckled. Breaking apart from him, she put a hand on her hip. "Okay, enough of that. What the heck are you doing here?"

Rubbing his hands together, Terry paced the kitchen floor. "I'll bet you're wondering how you got to be in the past."

"The thought has crossed my mind, yes," Reba snapped.

Terry stopped pacing and faced her. "What's the last thing you remember before you woke up in the past?"

"I dunno, it's kinda fuzzy…" Reba answered, searching her memory. "I remember…talking to Brock! And then, I saw the star on top of the tree. I climbed up on a dining room chair, and then…oh Lord, I _am_ dead!"

Shaking his head, Terry argued, "No, wait, Reba, no…"

"I don't want to die!" Reba sobbed, putting her head on Terry's shoulder. "I can't die! People need me, Terry! I mean, when I just fainted and Cheyenne and Van almost divorced! Take Barbara Jean! She's religious! She'd love to know what Heaven, or Hell, as the case may be, is like!"

Terry was laughing so hard he could barely breathe. "Reba, y-you're…"

"What are you laughing at?" Reba demanded, smacking him upside the head out of pure frustration. Realizing what she did, she put a hand over her mouth. "Oh, Lord, I just smacked an angel. You don't go to Hell for that, do you?"

Recovering from his laughter, Terry managed to reply, "Oh, Hell no. Shoot, I cuss all the time and I still got my halo."

"Well, if I'm not dead, _what the heck are you doing here_?" Reba repeated, exasperation in her tone.

Terry became serious, putting a hand on her shoulder. "I'm your guardian angel, Reba. You're in a coma, and I'm here to help through it."

"I'm…in a coma…" Reba whispered. Feeling her knees weaken, she went over to the table and collapsed into a chair. "You're my…oh my God…tell me, Terry. I might not be dead, but…am I going to be? I mean, will I wake up?"

Sitting down next to Reba, Terry assured her, "Yes. You're meant to live. The question is, in what reality?"

Reba stared him for a long moment, absorbing the question. _No…that can't mean what I think it means…_ "But that doesn't make sense. These are the same realities, just six years apart."

"For now," Terry pointed out. "With what you know now, you can make it so that you stay a _normal family._"

_Where have I heard that expression before?_ Reba wondered. Her mind took her back to that conversation with Brock. She gasped. "Oh, you've got to be kidding me. You're honestly going to sit there and tell me that this happened because I made a wish on a star? Terry, I hate to tell you this, but you've been watching way too many Lifetime movies."

"Believe it, Reba. It's standard guardian angel rules," Terry explained, a serious expression on his face. "A charge makes a wish on a star, and it's got to be granted."

"First of all, that's ridiculous," Reba retorted. "And secondly, I said _sometimes_ I wish we were a normal family. _Sometimes_. Maybe God has to get His ears checked or something."

Terry chuckled. "This wasn't exactly His idea. I've been wanting to give you this opportunity for a long time. I've just needed an excuse."

"Are you nuts?" Reba exclaimed, glaring at him. "I swear, if you weren't dead already I'd kill you! I can't be messing around in the past! I've got stuff to do! I mean, Cheyenne needs help with the baby, Kyra's stressing over college applications, Brock and Barbara Jean are having problems…I can't afford to be in a coma!"

Raising an eyebrow at her, Terry asked, "Did it ever occur to you that that's why you're in a coma in the first place? This is His way of telling you to slow down. Your heart can't take the pressure you've been putting on it."

"What does my high blood pressure have to do with me slipping and falling?" Reba demanded.

Terry sighed. "You didn't slip. Don't you remember getting dizzy? You would've fainted from high blood pressure anyway. You were just in the wrong place at the wrong time."

"I don't give a crap about that!" Reba yelled, near tears. He was getting her so frustrated her head was starting to hurt. "All I care about is getting back to my family. My real family. That includes Van, Elizabeth, Barb….Van and Elizabeth…."

"You were about to include Barbara Jean and Henry, weren't you?" Terry accused.

Reba folded her arms. "No…"

"It's okay, Reba. That's why you're here," Terry explained. "You've been given a second chance. Think about your future, as it is now. You have to decide what's more important to you. Having a normal family, or having Barbara Jean, Henry, Van and Elizabeth in your life."

"But that's not fair!" Reba protested. "I know how that future's going to work out! What if staying married to Brock and Cheyenne not getting pregnant makes my life worse?"

Terry shrugged. "That's the chance you have to be willing to take."

Wiping her eyes, after a moment Reba asked, "Okay, there are a few things I need to know before I go along with this."

"Shoot," Terry said.

"What's happening to my family now?" Reba questioned. "Are they the same, in the future? Have I changed anything already?"

Shaking his head, Terry answered, "No. Everything in the future stays exactly the same until you make your final decision. If you choose to go back to the original future, you'll wake up in your hospital bed and everything will be as it was."

"And if I don't?" Reba asked, hardly believing she'd actually posed the question.

Terry shrugged. "Then that timeline disappears. You'll forget about it, and continue living life without any special knowledge of the future."

"You mean I'll forget about Elizabeth…I don't know if I can do that," Reba admitted, growing more tense and afraid by the second. "Okay, third question. How can you fix it so that Brock and I don't get divorced and Cheyenne doesn't get pregnant?"

"That will be your doing," Terry informed her. "For instance, a few days ago you reconciled with Brock. If you hadn't done that, you might have put your relationship on the road to divorce again. It's little decisions like that that will determine if Brock has the affair with Barbara Jean.

"As for Cheyenne, I will transport you to about two months before she reveals she's pregnant. I'll give you the signal, and all you gotta do is walk in on Cheyenne and Van."

Reba put her head in her hand. "You make it sound so simple. This is going to be the hardest decision I'll ever have to make."

"Well, you've got two months to make it," Terry replied.

Glancing up at him, Reba exclaimed, "Wait, you're transporting me _now_? But what about Brock and…"

"That can all be fixed in that two month period," Terry answered.

Reba's eyes widened as he held out his hand. "No, wait, you can't just…"

Her protest died on her lips as the kitchen vanished and she was once again traveling through time.

* * *

A/N: I know, got a little weird at the end. But I felt there had to be more to the plot than Reba just ending up in the past. 


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: Just wanted to remind everyone that Terry Holloway was not an original character. Brock and Reba went to his funeral in Season 2.

**

* * *

**

**Chapter 7**

Reba lied still on her bed and kept her eyes closed. With any luck, Terry's magic or whatever it was hadn't worked and she was back in her own time. She'd been doing this even before Terry, however. Every morning in the past she'd take a few moments and pray that this was all a dream.

_It was a dream. A stupid, weird…admittedly vivid dream, brought on by stress and too much regular tea. Just stick to decaf from now on and you'll be fine._

"Mm, honey, you up?"

_Crap._

"Yes, Brock," Reba sighed. She was about to roll out of bed when Brock wrapped an arm around her waist.

Pulling her back into bed, Brock mumbled, "C'mon, Reba. I don't have to go in 'til noon. What do you say we celebrate?"

"I'd say call me a party pooper," Reba answered, shoving his arm off her waist. "I still gotta take the kids to school."

Brock rolled to face her and lazily opened one eye. "School? Honey, it's August."

"Oh…right. Guess I'm a little disoriented this morning," Reba lied. Looking at the clock and seeing that it was early for her to be getting up when she didn't have to, she almost went back to sleep. Then she paused. "I'll be back in a minute."

Going into their bathroom, Reba closed the door. "Ah!" She almost had a heart attack. Terry was standing across from her, leaning against the sink. "Terry, what the hell are you doing? My blood pressure just spiked through the roof, for crying out loud!"

"Sorry to frighten you, Reba," Terry apologized. "But we gotta talk. Like Brock said, it's August. I want to let you know what's going on."

Reba crossed her arms. "That's mighty nice of you, considering you just scared me half to death!"

"I said I was sorry!" Terry retorted.

Shaking her head, Reba asked, "Look, can you get outta here for now? There's a reason I came in the bathroom."

"Oh, right," Terry said, standing. "Meet me in the kitchen when you're done, okay?"

Reba nodded. "Fine, fine. Just do whatever angel thing you need to do to leave. The last thing I want is sleepy head in there waking up."

There was the bright gold light again, and Terry disappeared. Her jaw dropping, Reba muttered, "Now _that_ is cool."

Reba stumbled into the kitchen, wiping the sleep from her eyes. Switching on the light, she was surprised to find that her guardian angel wasn't waiting for her. She rolled her eyes. "Terry, get your angel butt down here!"

"Or you'll what?"

She heard his voice, but couldn't see him yet. "This is not funny! What do you angels do all day, sit around and think about how to torture us defenseless humans?"

"Pretty much," Terry joked, finally appearing in a chair at the table. "Boy, I forgot you weren't a morning person. I'll never make that mistake again."

Sinking into a chair next to him, Reba sent him a glare. "It's not that I'm not a morning person. You just tend to bug the hell outta me."

"Alright, then fine. I'll go away, and leave you here wondering what day it is," Terry retorted, raising his hand to snap his fingers.

Reba quickly put her hand over them. "On second thought, did I mention how much I missed you too?"

"It's always good to hear," Terry chuckled. "Anyway, it's August 3, 2001."

Reba's eyes widened. "Brock's birthday? No, you didn't…"

"Yes, I did. If my memory serves me right, in the original timeline you and Brock never fully recovered from your anniversary fight," Terry explained. "You've been getting worse and worse, and now Brock spends at least one night every week on the couch. About a month ago he even rented a hotel room for a few nights."

Putting her head in her hand, Reba demanded, "Is there any point to this recap from hell, Terry?"

"Yes. It's so that you see the difference when I tell you what's going on now," Terry replied. "You see, when you jumped from January to August, the past you took your place as if nothing ever happened."

Reba stared at him. "How does that work?"

"Complicated time travel magic," Terry answered. "I'd explain it to you, but frankly this time travel stuff gives me a headache."

"Tell me about it," Reba sighed.

Laughing, Terry continued, "So, when you changed that time, the rest of the timeline changed with it. Because you went and reconciled with Brock, things between you two never got as bad as they did. Granted, your marriage is still on the rocks – fate is fate, after all – but it's repairable."

"You mean, he hasn't messed around with Barbara Jean yet," Reba clarified.

Terry nodded. "Right. He's coming close though. One more fight might push him to it. You have to decide if you want to let that fight happen."

"Another decision," Reba replied, her head spinning. "Terry, there's one thing that's bothering me. Can't Brock and I stay together, _and_ Cheyenne and Van have Elizabeth?"

Hesitating for a moment, Terry answered, "That depends. You wished for a normal life. Do you want that to include a pregnant teenager?"

"I…didn't think of it that way," Reba admitted.

"There's also something else you have to consider," Terry reminded her. "So far the decisions you've made have brought you closer to Brock. Is that because you truly love him, or because you're so intent on keeping things as they are?"

Reba raised an eyebrow. "You were never this theoretical when you were alive, I know that much."

"Comes with the wings," Terry shrugged.

"Mom, who are you talking to?"

Reba glanced up just in time to see Kyra shuffle into the kitchen. "Oh, this is…" She trailed off when she noticed that Terry had disappeared. "…nobody, I mean nothing. What do you want for breakfast, honey?"

* * *

_January 2007_

"Kyra…Kyra…hey, anybody in there?" Van called, playfully rapping his knuckles on her forehead. They were in the hospital waiting room again, and they were all getting more anxious with each passing day. Come that evening, Reba would be in a coma for a full week.

Swatting his hand away, hard, Kyra snapped, "Cut it out. Tryin' to read here."

"Ouch!" Van whined, sucking the knuckle she'd hit. "Okay, sorry. It's just that you haven't blinked for the last half hour."

"Shut up, Van," Kyra retorted, not in the mood to come up with a more clever insult.

Giving her husband a worried look, Cheyenne put her hand on her sister's shoulder. "Kyra, sweetie, this is hard on all of us. If there is something you want to talk about, we'll understand."

"I'm fine…sort of," Kyra admitted, finally closing the book and looking at her sister. "I just, I can't believe Mom's really in there, so…weak, you know? And it's so much worse than when she was in here last year. I know this is going to sound weird, but…I'm in denial, I guess. I feel like she's…here. Not, like, in the hospital bed, here, but walking around here," she paused, giving a short laugh. "I keep expecting her to storm in and tell us to go on home and get on with our lives. You know that's what she'd do if she could."

"Yup, sounds like Mom," Cheyenne agreed, a sympathetic smile on her face. "But if Barbara Jean and Dad were here, she'd tell them to go home first."

Kyra chuckled. Her dad had dragged Barbara Jean and the kids to pick up Jake from a club meeting he stayed after school for. She'd been going to school too, under protest of course, but had rushed to the hospital the minute her last class ended. Yes, part of her understood that there was no sense in her staying there. At the same time though, she couldn't leave.

Shifting positions in her seat, Kyra realized she hadn't moved since she arrived and plunked herself down. She stood up, carefully placing her book and MP3 player on her seat. "Watch my stuff, okay? I'm going to get something from the vending machine."

"Okay. Need money?" Cheyenne offered, fishing a dollar out of her jean pocket.

Kyra took the dollar bill and stuffed it in her coat pocket. "Yeah, thanks."

Starting down the hallway, she stopped when she turned a corner and saw the door to her mother's room. She couldn't explain it, really. Ever since her mother had been in the hospital, she'd been having strange daydreams. They always took place in the same setting. She'd be twelve, in her house. Some of the dreams conflicted with a memory – one had involved her parent's last anniversary together, only it happened entirely different than how she remembered it.

On instinct, Kyra pushed open the door and went into the room. She was surprised to see a strange man standing over the bed. "Hey, get away from her!"

"Whoa, there! I'm just visiting," the man insisted, holding up his hands in surrender.

Kyra didn't fail to notice he'd been holding his mother's hand. "I didn't see you come in the waiting room, and I've been there all day."

"Liar. You've only been there for an hour," the man accused.

"Well, that doesn't matter, the point is that you're not supposed…" Kyra trailed off. "Wait, how did you know that? And why do you look familiar…"

The man held out his hand. "My name's Terry Holloway, a…friend of your Mom and Dad's."

Keeping a weary eye on his face, Kyra shook his hand. "Terry Holloway…I've heard that name before. And I've seen your picture too." Suddenly she dropped his hand and ran to the door. "Van! Van, Cheyenne, get in here! Some wacko is in here with Mom!"

"Kyra, calm down!" Terry ordered, putting a hand over her mouth and closing the door.

Kyra ripped his hand off her mouth and retorted, "You can't be Terry Holloway. Mom and Dad went to your funeral four years ago."

"I said I was a friend. I didn't say I was a _living_ friend," Terry replied.

Taking a step back, Kyra breathed, "T-then that makes you a, what, ghost? Yeah right, tell Casper I said hi."

"Not a ghost, Kyra. An angel," Terry explained, starting to glow in the same golden light.

"An angel…you're not the Angel of Death, are you?" Kyra asked, panicked. "Here to take my mom? Cause you can't have her. I won't let you."

Terry rolled his eyes. "Take it easy, will you? I'm not the Angel of Death. He is a good friend of mine, though. I think he's busy taking care of some plague in Africa, I dunno. The guy doesn't like to talk about his work."

"Would you?" Kyra retorted. Letting out a deep breath, she questioned, "So if you're not the Angel of Death…what are you?"

Sighing, Terry answered, "I'm your mother's guardian angel. See, remember how the doctor told you about patients like her, who wake up and say they've been somewhere else?"

"Yeah…" Kyra answered.

"Well…actually, it's complicated. You better sit down." When Kyra sat in a nearby chair, Terry explained that Reba was in the past with a difficult choice to make. He also told her what her mother had already done to possibly alter the future.

Kyra put her head in her hands. "This is nuts. You expect me to believe that my mother is running around in 2001 changing everything so that our lives are 'normal'? That doesn't sound like her."

"She hasn't made up her mind yet," Terry assured her, then paused. "You know, you gave me an idea. I bet Reba could use some future input. You up for a little time traveling?"

Her eyes widening, Kyra exclaimed, "_Me_? There's no way you're putting me in a coma!"

"No, for you it doesn't have to be that way," Terry replied. "See, since your mother told your younger self she was from the future, and what happens there, there is a special link between you and your younger self that makes a coma unnecessary. Which also means that you're the only one who can go since she hasn't told anyone else."

Kyra stood and began pacing the room. "I guess that explains why I've been having the daydreams lately. Okay, let's say I do decide to go. What do I tell Mom?"

"Just how you feel about everything. Which future do you want?" Terry asked.

Shaking her head, Kyra explained, "It's not about what I want, it never has. Her decisions will have the most influence on Dad, Barbara Jean, Cheyenne, and Van. Shouldn't they get votes?"

"If you want to tell them what's going on, go ahead," Terry answered. "If you need help, I'll back you up."

Kyra raised an eyebrow. "You want me to go in there and tell my family that Mom time traveled in her head and that she might change our lives unless we say otherwise? Do you realize how insane that is?"

"It's your call," Terry replied, shrugging.

Sighing deeply, Kyra went and opened the door. "Well, it's worth a shot."

* * *

_August 2001_

Standing in the hallway outside Brock's office, Reba took several deep breaths. If she remembered correctly, this day was not supposed to go well. They had been fighting on and off over the summer, and Brock ended up spending his birthday working, going out with his friends, and then getting a room in a cheap hotel.

Once again, she was going to change that. She still wasn't sure if she loved him enough to want to stay married to him. However, something was telling her that this day couldn't happen the same way. So there she was, standing outside his office dressed up, intent on surprising him and taking him to lunch.

Feeling that she was as mentally prepared as she could get, she pushed open the door.

"Hi there, do you have an appointment?"

Reba froze, not expecting the familiar voice. _Oh Lord._ "B-Barbara Jean?" She stuttered, too surprised to say anything else. After a few moments standing there with a stupid look on her face, Reba felt like smacking herself. _Of course Barbara Jean would be here, you idiot! She was Brock's assistant first, impregnated hygienist later!_

Plastering on what was she was sure was the fakest smile ever worn, Reba approached the reception desk. "No, I don't actually. I'm –"

"Oh my God, you're Reba!" Barbara Jean interrupted. "You know Brock has a picture of you in his wallet? You should give him an updated one – it looks like you're twenty-five-years-old!"

_And I don't now?_ Reba thought, her temper flaring. True, she knew there was no way she could look like a twenty-five-year-old when she was pushing fifty, but Barbara Jean didn't have to say it. _Wait, it's 2001! Oh, it's good to be forty again!_ That thought kept her grinning throughout the rest of the conversation. "So, he's showed you my picture?"

Barbara Jean nodded. "Oh yeah, he talks about you all the time. You know, it's always a sign of a loving marriage when the husband just can't stop talking about the wife. It's all the time. Constantly."

Noting with satisfaction that there was a note of frustration in the blonde's voice, Reba replied, "I believe that too."

"Oh, where are my manners?" Barbara Jean exclaimed, extending a hand. "I'm Barbara Jean. It's so great to finally meet you!"

"Likewise," Reba lied through gritted teeth, shaking the hand then discreetly wiped it on her pants when they broke apart. _First Brian, then Van, now her. This déjà vu is starting to make my head spin._ "Is Brock busy?"

Looking at the appointment book, Barbara Jean answered, "Yes. Dr. Hart will be in with his current patient for another five minutes, and then he takes his lunch break."

"Perfect. I'll just take a seat over there," Reba said, sitting in one of the waiting room seats. She then grabbed a magazine off the coffee table and flipped through it.

Reading the magazine, Reba only noticed Barbara Jean out of the corner of her eye. The blonde stood at the desk for a long moment, then slowly wandered over to the coffee table. Moving the magazines around, Barbara Jean explained, "You know, Br…Dr. Hart likes all the reading materials to be arranged in alphabetical order, sometimes size order…"

"Really, is that so," Reba muttered, her attention now fully on Barbara Jean. _I know that face. It's her lying face. And she's rambling like an idiot. Is there something going on between her and Brock already?_

"…but you know, sometimes I just fan them out in no order and it looks just fine…" Barbara Jean went on, some magazines spilling to the floor. Ignoring the fallen ones, she continued to move around the ones on the table until she finally looked up at Reba. In a high-pitched voice, she asked, "So what brings you here, Mrs. Hart?"

_Now I'm Mrs. Hart. Oh yeah, something's already going on._ Anger building up inside her, she gripped the arm rests until her knuckles turned white. Her tone deathly even, she answered, "I was planning on surprising him and taking him for a birthday lunch. Do you have a problem with that?"

"_No_, why would you think that I…" Barbara Jean answered a bit too quickly, her voice so high that Reba felt bad for any dogs in the area. Throwing down the magazines on the table, Barbara Jean stood there for a minute, then ran into the office. "Brock!"

_I guess that answers my question_, Reba moaned, putting her head in her hand. Why would Terry do this? Why would he bring her here when Brock was already cheating on her? Why ask her to try and fix a relationship that was already beyond repair? Wiping her face, she was surprised to find that her eye was wet. _Great, I'm crying over Brock. I thought I promised myself I would never do that ever again._

By the time Brock and Barbara Jean came out of the office, tears were streaming down her face. _I can't cry in front of them._ Wiping her eyes, Reba stood as they entered the waiting room.

"Hey Reba," Brock greeted. "BJ told me why you're here, and while that's nice and all, I was going to stay at the office for lunch, but…some of the other doctors…"

"Forget it!" Reba shouted, storming out the door. "Forget I ever tried to do anything nice for _you_!"


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

_January 2007_

Outside the hospital in a type of park area set up for visitors, Barbara Jean and Brock sat in silence on a bench, waiting for the other to attempt conversation. Neither of them knew what to say, however they might not have said it if they did. Starting to talk might bring up aspects of their lives that both did not want to explore.

They had just gotten back to the waiting room with the kids when Kyra returned from visiting her mother. All were curious about the stranger following her, but none recognized him…except for Brock, who'd nearly jumped out of his skin.

After several minutes of idiotic sputtering on Brock's part, Kyra and Terry explained the entire situation to the disbelieving group. They were shocked by what Reba had to face, and initially incensed that she would even consider changing their lives without their consent. Then Kyra told them that she would be time traveling too, and that if they wanted Reba to know their opinion they had to speak then or forever hold their peace.

That was when it became complicated. Barbara Jean had scoffed at the suggestion, thinking it ridiculous that anyone would want to change the past six years. Brock's hesitation to back her up was why they were now sitting in silence, wondering who would start the conversation that could change both their lives forever.

Always the forward one, Barbara Jean cleared her throat. "So that was the infamous Terry Holloway, huh? He seems nice. Now I understand why you and Reba were so heartbroken when he died."

"Yeah, he was…is…you know what I mean," Brock sighed. "Just seeing him brought back so many memories."

Barbara Jean glanced at him. "Of you and Reba?" When he didn't respond, she quietly asked, "Brock…do you think our marriage was a mistake? Something that was never supposed to happen?"

"No, of course…" He trailed off at her "be honest" look. "I don't know. I'd like to say that these past six years have been the happiest in my life…"

"But if you did it would be a lie," Barbara Jean finished, sadness in her voice.

Putting an arm around her, Brock explained, "Don't get me wrong, honey. I love you. It's just that our marriage was never easy, and it's more clear now than ever before. We've even been talking about…you know…d –"

"I get it," Barbara Jean interrupted. "And I understand that I might not be your soul mate. What I meant was, do you regret leaving Reba?" When there was silence again, she quickly added, "You don't have to answer that."

Brock took his arm off her shoulder and put his head in his hands. "I ask myself that question a lot. But then I think, what if we _had_ stayed together? Would we still love each other, or would we have gotten divorced anyway?"

"There's the million-dollar question," Barbara Jean remarked. "It's okay that you have your questions, Brock. I have some of my own."

Raising an eyebrow in surprise, Brock asked, "Really?"

"Oh yeah," Barbara Jean nodded. "Before I met you, well, married you, I was this low-life slut stealing other women's husbands. It is how I landed you, after all. What would I be now without you and Henry and Reba in my life? Would I still be that slut who wore a boob shirt every time I had a dentist appointment?"

"Boob shirts?" Brock inquired, amused.

Barbara Jean gave a sheepish grin. "Oh yeah, always the best for a dentist appointment. They go to examine your teeth and get a nice view of the ladies," she explained, pointing to her chest.

Brock chuckled. "There's something I needed to know."

"Yeah, well, we're getting divorced now. I didn't think it'd matter," Barbara Jean snapped, suddenly annoyed.

Not knowing what to say to that, Brock put his hand on his forehead. "I'm sorry, Barbara Jean. But when I think of all the pain we caused, both on each other and Reba and the kids, I can't help but think maybe our vote should be to change everything."

"What about Henry?" Barbara Jean blurted suddenly, her eyes wide with panic.

"Oh man," Brock groaned. "You're right. What about Henry."

* * *

"That's not my mother."

Van gave his wife a confused look. After Brock and Barbara Jean left to go outside, they'd snuck off to Reba's room to have their own conversation. Clueless about what Cheyenne meant, after all, her mother was right there, Van replied, "Uh, Cheyenne, that is Mrs. H. There's no mistaking that red hair."

"No, I meant…what Kyra said before. About how it's so weird to see her like this," Cheyenne sighed, taking her mother's limp hand in her own. "Is it just me, or is she paler than she was yesterday?"

Putting an arm around his wife, Van answered, "She'll be fine. You heard what that angel guy said. She barely knows she's _in_ a coma. And she is going to wake up."

"That does make me feel a little better," Cheyenne admitted.

Van raised an eyebrow at her. "It should make you feel a _lot_ better. It does for me."

"Yeah, it's great," Cheyenne muttered, her eyes downward.

Sensing the light sarcasm in her voice, Van asked, "Honey, are you okay?"

"No, I'm not _okay_," Cheyenne mocked. She almost shouted it, sounding as if she were about to cry. "I don't want to lose you!"

"Whoa, what are you talking about?" Van exclaimed, surprised by her sudden change in demeanor.

Leaving the bedside, Cheyenne paced the room. "What if, you know, Mom looses every last bit of common senses and decides it would be a good idea to change what happened? It's not fair, Van! She has no right to change our lives without our permission! You and Elizabeth are the two people I love the most, and she can take you away with one decision! It's not fair, it's not fair, it's not fair…" She repeated the phrase over and over, stamping her foot.

Van was unnerved to see tears well up in her eyes. He rushed to her, wrapping her in a hug. "Sh, everything's going to be okay. I know Mrs. H, and she wouldn't do that to us. She's not selfish, Cheyenne."

"I guess…" Cheyenne trailed off, feeling a little better. Leaning her head on Van's shoulder, she let out a short laugh. "Can you believe Dad? What is _wrong_ with him, not supporting Barbara Jean like that?"

Breaking away from the embrace, Van avoided eye contact and commented, "That crazy guy, must have a few screws loose in his head…I mean, what kind of inconsiderate…"

"Van?"

Van turned around, biting his bottom lip in anxiety. "Yeah?"

"Do you…agree with him?" Cheyenne asked with incredulity, her arms folded across her chest.

"No…yes…maybe…" Van sputtered, wincing at her death glare. "Haven't you ever thought about it?"

Hesitating, Cheyenne snapped, "No!"

"You lie! You're Liar McLiarson!" Van accused, his voice at yelling level.

Cheyenne glared at him. "I am not! I am totally confident and supportive of our marriage…most of the time…"

"A_ha_!" Van pounced, pointing a finger at her. "You've had doubts! Lots of them! I bet you have doubts all the time!"

"You had doubts first!" Cheyenne yelled.

"I can't help it, Cheyenne!" Van shouted. "When you get married because you knocked up your wife at seventeen, you can't help but have doubt sometimes, you know?"

Suddenly, the only sounds that could be heard were the couples' jagged breathing and the beeps of Reba's monitor.

"Van…why didn't you ever tell me this? I thought I was the only one," Cheyenne finally said, her voice low. "We could've supported each other."

Van shrugged. "I dunno. I guess I was embarrassed…guilty…"

"Guilty?" Cheyenne asked, confused.

Nodding, Van explained, "I got you pregnant when you were seventeen, Cheyenne! I single-handedly ruined your life! You could've done so much more…"

"Like what?" Cheyenne pointed out. "I went to college, didn't I? I can still be anything I want to be. Getting pregnant and married at a young age didn't hold me back one bit."

Van stared at her in surprise. "Wow…I-I…never realized that…"

"And even if our lives were supposed to turn out differently, I don't care!" Cheyenne went on. "I love my life now! I have a family I love, a successful husband…why would I want it to be any different? And why would you?"

"You're right…you're _so_ right…I'm an idiot," Van realized, putting his arms around Cheyenne as she came over and hugged him.

Hugging him tight, she joked, "Yeah you are. But you're my idiot. And nothing's going to change that."

They kissed, but they broke apart when the rest of their family, and Terry, came into the hospital room.

"Did you two make up your minds yet?" Terry asked, standing at the foot of Reba's bed.

Cheyenne smiled, picking up Elizabeth and wrapping an arm around Van's waist. "Yeah. And we wouldn't change a thing."

"Yup. Cheyenne's my wife and I'd like to keep it that way," Van added.

Terry smiled, then looked at Brock and Barbara Jean, "And you two?"

They didn't respond for a moment. Finally, Barbara Jean copied Cheyenne's movement and picked up her child. However, she replied, "We disagree. We love Henry, but don't think we've been fair to him. Brock and I are always fighting…"

"Our lives would be much better if I had stayed with Reba," Brock finished.

All were shocked at their announcement. After a minute, Kyra cleared her throat and sat down on a nearby chair, put next to the bed for guests. "Well, I've got the message. Beam me back, Terry."

"Hey, wait, don't I get to say anything?" Jake asked.

The others stared at him, feeling a little guilty that no one asked his opinion. Terry replied, "Yes, of course."

"I don't think anything should change," Jake stated firmly. "Mom and Dad don't belong together, I get that. And Van's the best big brother ever."

There was silence once again. Eventually, Kyra smirked, "Dully noted, squirt. Let's get this started, shall we?"

* * *

Reba burst through her front doorway after driving back from Brock's office, still wiping tears from her eyes. Feeling hopeless, she threw her bag in the closet and plopped herself down on the couch. She put her head in her hands, then shouted, "Terry!"

When the now-familiar golden light didn't appear, she picked her head up. "Terry? Terry! Terry!"

She continued shouting his name, getting louder and louder with every time. Finally her throat got scratchy from yelling at the top of her lungs. _Where is he?_ Reba wondered, aggravation overcoming the sensation of her heart ripping in two for the moment. _Why isn't he coming?_

"Reba?"

Turning around, she began, "About time…oh, it's you."

"Who were you expecting?" Brock asked. He had come through the door while her back was to the door, and still wore his white dentist's coat from work.

Reba stood up and headed for the stairs. "Never mind. You, just…get away from me. I know if I have to talk to you I'll say something I'll regret."

"No, we're going to talk now," Brock said, grabbing her arm. "What the hell was that?"

Her eyes widening, she exclaimed, "_You're_ mad at _me_? You've got some nerve…"

"Yeah, I do. I think I deserve an explanation when my wife blows up at me for no reason," Brock interrupted, an annoyed look on his face.

Reba took a deep breath, managing to free her arm from Brock's grip. "_I_ think the way I acted was perfectly reasonable."

"Okay, you were upset I couldn't go to lunch with you, I get it," Brock retorted. "That doesn't give you the right to yell at me like that in front of Barbara Jean."

Giving a sheepish smile, Reba realized that he had a point. How could she explain her behavior when there was no way she could know about their affair? "Oh, right. Um, I'm sorry about that. I just lost my temper, I guess."

"Why would you have any temper to lose? What'd I do?" Brock asked, honestly confused.

Reba hesitated, then went over and sat on the couch. She patted the seat across from her. "Brock, have a seat. We need to talk."

"What is this about?" Brock questioned. He took the seat next to Reba, turning to face her.

Looking into his eyes, Reba paused. Then she cleared her throat. "I know about you and Barbara Jean. I can't explain how, but I know."

"Know what?" Brock replied.

"Don't make this difficult," Reba pleaded. "I _know_." When he still had no clue what she was talking about, she resisted the temptation to roll her eyes. "I know that you and Barbara Jean are having an affair."

"_What_?" Brock shouted, jumping out of his seat. "What the heck would give you that idea?"

Reba looked down at her lap. "Don't make me explain that, Brock, please..."

"Oh, I'm gonna! You think I'm cheating on you, I think I deserve to know why!" Brock yelled.

Searching her mind for a plausible response, Reba began, "Well…I guess…you know…we've been fighting lately, you stay at a hotel some nights rather than sleep on the couch, and…just the way Barbara Jean was so tense around me…"

"Okay, you want the truth?" Brock sighed, sitting back down. His tone was noticeably calmer. "Barbara Jean and I…have messed around a little bit. You're right, we have been fighting lately. It's not my fault, though! She flirts like crazy…you should really see some of these shirts she wears. She bends down to give a patient a cup of water and I feel like I need one myself."

Reba raised an eyebrow. "This is supposed to make me feel better?"

"No. This is," Brock answered. "I didn't…go all the way with her, Reba, I swear. I just kissed her a few times when I was at my weakest, or I was trying to deal with a fight we had."

'_I did not have sex with that woman,' _Reba thought, smirking to herself. However, he did seem like he was telling the truth. "I just don't know, Brock."

"Reba, have I ever given you a reason not to trust me?" Brock asked, his eyes pleading.

Reba had focus on not smacking him. Trying to calm herself down, she was startled to realize that…he didn't. Before they split up, he was very trustworthy. Though it killed her to say it, she replied, "No, I guess not.

"Then let's move past this," Brock begged. "I swear I'll never touch Barbara Jean again. In fact, after you left, she encouraged me to go after you. She just felt so guilty."

Not responding, Reba digested his words. _I did it!_ She thought. _I prevented Brock from having the affair! So this is what Terry meant about changing the future on my own._ "Okay, for the sake of our marriage…I'll let it drop."

"Thank you! I love you so much," Brock exclaimed, planting a kiss on her lips.

Reba's first instinct was to pull away. However, after about a second she found herself melting into the kiss, even wrapping her arms around his neck. He finally pulled away, and she was terrified to note that she was actually disappointed.

"I'd love to stay and make up, but I have to get back to work," Brock said, regret in his tone. "I promise I'll get home early so we can celebrate my birthday together."

Her smile wide, Reba nodded. "I can't wait."

Once he left, Reba slouched back into the couch. _I can't wait?_ She thought in horror. _What is wrong with me?_

"Mom?"

Reba nearly jumped out of her skin. She leaped out of her seat and whirled around to face the doorway that led into the kitchen. Her jaw dropping, she stuttered, "K-kyra? B-but, how in the world…"

"This little 'Back to the Future' stunt was brought to you by your guardian angel and mine, Terry," Kyra, the seventeen-year-old version, quipped as she walked into the living room.

Unable to stop staring, Reba asked, "Terry? He visited you?"

"Yeah, he explained everything," Kyra answered. "But he apparently left out one minor detail. Did…you just kiss Dad?"


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

_August 2001_

"What? No!" Reba lied, in tone that didn't even sound convincing to herself. At Kyra's disbelieving glare, she sighed. "Alright, yeah, we kissed. But he kissed me first! I was just being polite…"

Kyra smirked. "It looked like you were enjoying it. And when are you ever polite for Dad?"

"It's different when he thinks I'm his wife!" Reba defended.

Crossing her arms, Kyra was silent. Then her eyes widened and she exclaimed, "You're falling in love with him again, aren't you?"

Reba gaped at her, speechless. Truthfully, she'd been asking herself that same question. "No…okay, maybe. I don't know yet."

"Yet?" Kyra replied, walking around the couch to face her mother. "Mom, you can't do this!"

Clenching her fists, Reba fumed, "Is that why Terry sent you here? To tell me what to do?"

"Calm down," Kyra answered. Her mother's uncharacteristic outburst and uncertainty surprised her. "Look, I walked in on him standing by your hospital bed. He thought you could use some help, so he sent me. That's all."

Reba let out a breath. "Oh. Sorry…I just haven't really…"

"Been yourself lately?" Kyra finished.

Smiling, Reba replied, "Can you blame me? I'm forty, my hair's short, and Brock's my loving husband again. I'm sorry if I'm not exactly emotionally stable."

Kyra looked down, and when she glanced back up there was a tear in her eye. "Mom, we miss you. A lot. Seeing you in a coma is really hard on everyone. Just make a decision already."

:"Aw, honey," Reba said, wrapping the teen in a hug. "I miss you all too."

Breaking away from the hug, Kyra demanded, "Then why won't you decide!"

"It's not that easy…" Reba protested.

Kyra stomped her foot. "Yes it is! Things are exactly how they're supposed to be or they wouldn't have happened that way."

"Well, I've always believed that too," Reba admitted, sitting back down on the couch. "Until now, that is. Kyra, don't you get it? I've been given a chance, an opportunity that I've prayed for…_so_ much. And I know I'll be kickin' myself for the rest of my life if I don't at least consider taking it."

After a minute, Kyra finally nodded. "I…guess that's fair. Besides, you gotta consider Dad and Barbara Jean's opinions."

"Wait…what does that have to do with anything?" Reba asked.

Kyra gulped. "Well, you see…everybody knows what's going on. When Terry said I could go back, I thought Cheyenne and Van and Barbara Jean and Dad deserved to have a say in your decision. So…he and I told them."

"Boy, Brock must've jumped out of his skin when he saw Terry," Reba remarked, an amused smile on her face.

Laughing, Kyra replied, "Oh yeah. He turned so white, he'll have to be in his tanning booth for another week to make up for it."

Reba chuckled, but then became serious as she realized what her family knowing about her situation meant. "So…what do they think?

"They had mixed reactions," Kyra answered, taking a seat next to her mother. "Cheyenne and Van wanted everything to stay the same, which I can understand. Let's face it, those two were made for each other," she commented in a derisive tone.

Not surprised in the least, Reba reluctantly pressed, "What about Brock and Barbara Jean?"

"That's where it gets interesting," Kyra began.

Reba raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"They think…" Kyra went on. "That you should change the future. They feel that their marriage wasn't worth all the trouble they caused, and that it would be better if Dad stayed with you."

Shocked, Reba replied, "But what about Henry?"

"They love him, but feel guilty that he grew up around so much fighting," Kyra explained. "And Jake feels that he's okay with you and Dad divorced, he likes having Van as a big brother."

Reba leaned back on the couch, closing her eyes. "That's a lot to take in. But thanks, Kyra, I appreciate you coming here."

"Eh, traveling through time and space, no biggie," Kyra shrugged.

Smiling at her, Reba tilted her head. "Hey, you never said what _you_ think."

"No one asked," Kyra said. "But, since you are…I don't know, Mom. On one hand, yeah, I love Van and Barbara Jean. Who else would I mock mercilessly? But…when I think of what I went through, with feeling overshadowed by Cheyenne and even listening to you and Dad fight during the divorce. Now I think I know why this is so hard to decide."

"See? It isn't easy," Reba replied.

Kyra suddenly turned and glared at her. "It should be for you!"

"W-what? I thought we were on the same page here!" Reba sputtered.

Jumping to her feet, Kyra exclaimed, "Don't you get it Mom? If you change the past, _everything_ changes! Yeah, I have some problems in my life, but who _doesn't_? That doesn't mean you have the right to change the lives of everyone around you! Doing that would just be…just be…incredibly, totally, _selfish_!"

"Well maybe I want to be selfish!" Reba shouted, leaping up from the couch also. "For the past six years, I've lived my life based on what everyone else needed. A teenage boy gets my daughter pregnant? I took him in and basically raised my grandchild. My husband cheats on me? Hey, I don't mind, I'll spend the next six years fixing my ex-husband's problems with his new wife!"

Kyra looked down, purposely avoiding eye contact. "But that doesn't mean…"

Ignoring her, Reba went on, "I mean, what is _wrong_ with me? No one in their right mind is that giving, that selfless! You know what, Kyra, this experience has made me realize something. My life is not really mine. I'm the family therapist, I'm a babysitter…but I'm not _me_. I've spent the past six years accommodating everybody else's needs and getting nothing but high blood pressure in return."

"Mom, how can you say that?" Kyra asked, tears welling in her eyes. "We love you."

Reba's breath was heavy from her outburst. Swallowing the lump in her throat, she replied, "I know that, sweetie. But that doesn't change the fact that I have to make this decision for me. And I've already made it."

There was dead silence as the two stood still, handling their own emotions. Reba was still breathing heavy, sure she would be fainting from high blood pressure if she was in her future body. Furiously wiping at her tears, Kyra did everything she could to avoid eye contact with her mother.

"You're really going to do it," Kyra finally sobbed.

Tears in her own eyes, Reba wrapped Kyra in another hug. "Yeah, I am."

"Mom?"

The two broke away in panic and looked toward the front door. Reba was astonished to see twelve-year-old Kyra standing in the doorway, her book bag at her feet and a confused expression on her face.

"Kyra!" Reba blurted, trying to figure out how solve this mess. "What are you doing home? I'm supposed to pick you up!"

Walking further into the living room and dragging her backpack, Kyra raised an eyebrow at the strange person hugging her mother. "We got out a few minutes early and my friend's mom gave me a ride. Mom, who's this?"

"Well this is…this is…" Reba trailed off, unable to come up with an appropriate response.

Old Kyra stepped forward, her arms crossed at her chest. "Hi, I'm you from six years into the future."

"O_kay_…" young Kyra said, giving her older self a once-over. "Awesome outfit."

Smirking to herself, old Kyra nodded in approval. "I always thought I was cool at this age."

* * *

Seated in the living room easy chair, Terry's eyes went back and forth. Reba was pacing the area between the couch and the dining room table, her movements so frenzied that Terry was getting dizzy.

It was the day after Reba had her blow-out with seventeen-year-old Kyra. At first, Reba had called for Terry soon after the teen's younger self walked through the door. After Terry returned older Kyra to the future, Reba demanded he allow her to make her choice.

Initially he was put off a bit. After all, she still had most of her two months left to decide. Then, he'd talked with older Kyra and she helped him understand what was happening. It was simple, really. Reba snapped from the stress and pressure of the situation. He wasn't particularly surprised at that.- he'd seen it happen to some of his other charges.

Once he went back to tend to Reba, he realized what he needed to do. He needed to talk her down from her decision. True, she was supposed to choose on her own, and while she could listen to others' opinions, she couldn't be told what to decide. However he felt it was his moral responsibility to prevent her from deciding while she wasn't exactly in her right mind.

It took some convincing, but Reba had finally agreed to at least sleep on it. Now she was frantically pacing the room, furious at him for making her think about it so much.

Clearing his throat, Terry reminded her, "You know, Reba, you only used up two days of your two months."

"I don't _want_ my two months," Reba vented, finally perching on the sofa's arm across from him. "Don't you get it? This decision is driving me bananas! I'm not used to this kind of power!"

Giving her a small sympathetic grin, Terry replied, "What happened? You were so sure about it yesterday."

"So was I," Reba sighed.

Terry raised an eyebrow. "But?"

"But…Brock wanted to sleep with me last night."

At that, Terry blinked a few times, trying to find some way to convince himself that she did not just say that. "Uh…that bastard? How dare he?"

"You're acting like it's okay!" Reba exclaimed.

Shrugging, Terry said, "He _is_ your husband."

"Only in this timeline!" Reba huffed. "But that's not what I'm sayin' here, Terry. I said Brock _wanted_ to sleep with me last night. For his birthday, he said. And I'm sure if I was my 2001 self I would have done it."

"But your 2007 self?" Terry prodded.

Standing up again, Reba resumed her pacing. "That's just it. There I was, all ready to say the word and change the world. But how can I agree to stay married to Brock when…I couldn't even bring myself to sleep with him? And all I kept thinking the rest of the night was that you were right."

"I knew I was!" Terry smirked, then paused. "About what?"

Reba put a hand on her hip. "When you asked me yesterday if I was really in love with Brock, or if I was so desperate to keep my life from going to hell that I would do anything to prevent it."

"Did you come up with an answer?" Terry asked.

Letting out a deep breath, Reba admitted, "No. I couldn't. I mean, there are some days I regret the divorce so much, but then…Dang it, this is impossible Terry! I just wish there was some way I could see what would happen to my life if I choose to stay with Brock and…"

Terry paused when she trailed off. He looked up to find her staring at him, a suggestive smile on her face. "No. No way. I told ya, I can't do it…"

"Please! Please, please, please…." Reba begged. "It would help me _so_ much!"

Considering for a moment, Terry massaged his forehead. "Fine, but just stop whining, will ya? And so you know, I'm gonna get in big trouble for this. If the Big Guy clips my wings I'm staying at your house."

"I'll risk it," Reba quipped.

"But don't you…" Terry sighed at her persistent glare. "Okay, okay. I'll show you the future, but only a little bit of it, got it?"

Reba nodded. "Got it."

Terry waved his hand, and then they were both enveloped in his golden light before they disappeared.

* * *

"Warn me before you do that, will ya?" Reba remarked when the reappeared somewhere…or rather, some-when else. Though she was getting used to the sensation of time traveling, it still made her stomach feel queasy and her head spin.

Wincing from her headache, Reba took a survey of her surroundings. She was surprised to find they were still in her living room…and that she and Terry were still glowing. "Alright, Terry, when are we?"

"2007," Terry explained. "It's a regular weekday in January. Your alternate self is about to get home after picking up Jake. You might want to brace yourself. Brock, Cheyenne, Kyra and Jake are very different people in this timeline."

Reba smirked. "I wouldn't worry about that. After seeing two Kyras, I don't think anything can shock me anymore."

"Are you sure about that?" Terry asked, then gestured to the front door.

Turning her head, Reba gasped as herself and twelve-year-old Jake walked through the door. She wasn't sure what stunned her more – watching herself hang her son's jacket in the closet, or the fact that Jake was wearing a football uniform.

"_How was practice, honey?" the other Reba asked._

_Jake shrugged on his way up the stairs. "Okay I guess. That big kid tackled me again."_

"_Don't take it personally. Maybe she likes you and doesn't know how to show it," Reba suggested. At Jake's exasperated look, she sighed. "I'm sorry, sweetie. Keep working at it. You'll get better."_

_Hanging his head, Jake trudged up the stairs and muttered, "That's what you say every week."_

The original Reba looked on as her alternate self went to straighten up the living room. "So I take it they can't see us?"

"Right. Can't see or hear us," Terry answered.

"I just don't get it," Reba commented after a minute, regarding the scene they witnessed. "A, Jake was great at football when he was a kid. And B, the Jake I know has no interest in football whatsoever."

Crossing his arms, Terry began, "Well, it's like this. Without Van around, Brock put the pressure on Jake to become a football star that he would've put on his son-in-law…only Van's a more gifted athlete."

"But that doesn't explain the fact that when he was little he was a good player," Reba countered.

"At first he was," Terry agreed. "But after a while, the pressure got to him. He became run down, and he's lost the will to play anymore. He wants to win, but only to please his dad."

Reba frowned, glancing toward the stairs with worry. "The poor little guy."

"Don't be so quick to pity him," Terry said, then waved his hand again.

Before Reba could blink, they were in Jake's room, watching him as he sat at his computer and turned it on. Shaking her head, she glared at Terry. "I told you to warn me before you do that!"

"Sorry," Terry laughed.

Reba refocused her attention on her son. He was typing an essay. "Well, ah, at least he's eager to do his homework…weirdly enough..."

"It's only because he's terrified of being kicked off the team because of his grades," Terry replied. "Though he is a good student. And he's popular as ever because he's on the team, but his friends are a little worried about him since he's been so off."

"Aw, Jake…" Reba murmured, instinctively reaching out to smooth his hair. Her jaw dropped when her hand slipped right through his head and came out his neck. "Huh. There's something you don't see every day."

Terry grinned. "You get used to it."

Unable to stop staring at her hand, Reba managed to ask, "Okay, where to next?"

"You'll see," Terry replied, raising his hand. Pausing, he said, "Warning, warning, warning…"

Reba smacked his arm. "Alright, I get it, now just do whatever you gotta do."

"But you said to –"

"Just do it!"

"Impatient, are we?" Terry teased. When she glared at him, he quickly held up his hand and they were gone.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

_Alternate Timeline, January 2007_

They reappeared in Brock's office, in a patient room. Brock was tending to an attractive woman, and was being assisted by a male hygienist.

"What happened to Barbara Jean?" Reba questioned out of curiosity.

"She quit," Terry explained, "It got so tense between her and Brock after he told you they had a fling that she thought it was best."

Reba smiled. "It probably was. Now shh, I wanna listen."

"_Okay, you're all done. See you in six months," Brock was saying, taking his rubber gloves off and throwing them in a nearby trash can._

_The brunette woman sat up and removed the paper bib. Giving Brock a seductive grin, she placed a delicate hand on his bicep. "I don't know if I can wait that long."_

"_Of course you can come sooner if you feel you need another appointment," Brock replied, obviously enjoying having her hand on his arm._

_Idly running her finger up and down Brock's arm, she explained, "I was thinking of something more along the lines of going out for coffee sometime?"_

"_Y-you know, coffee is bad for your teeth," Brock stuttered, shrugging her hand off and pretended to busy himself with arranging his cleaning instruments._

_The woman chuckled as she walked toward the door and glanced back at him. "Then I guess I will be needing another appointment, won't I?"_

_Brock blushed, watching her as she went into the waiting room. When he couldn't see her anymore he started chatting with his hygienist. _

Gritting her teeth, Reba clenched her fists to prevent herself from smacking Brock across the face. After all, it wasn't like he would feel it if she did. "What is _wrong_ with that man? Doesn't he ever learn his lesson?"

"He did," Terry answered. "And he has yet to have an affair. But you know Brock – he can't help but flirt."

"He's still loyal…" Reba whispered in amazement.

Terry nodded. "Yup. Don't get me wrong, he's the biggest dang flirt you'll ever meet, 'specially when a babe starts giving him compliments."

"Some things never change," Reba muttered.

Giving a short laugh, Terry reasoned, "But that isn't the point. Yeah, he flirts every once in a while, but he's as loyal as a childhood dog. And might I add that you two have never been happier."

"Jeez," Reba murmured, shaking her head. "I can't believe it."

Terry put a hand on her shoulder. "Well, get over it quick cause we've got somewhere else to go."

They arrived in a bedroom of a strange apartment. Cheyenne was packing clothes into a suitcase, while Kyra looked on from her seat on the edge of the queen-sized bed.

If seeing Jake in a football uniform stunned Reba, seeing Kyra in a cheerleading uniform was enough to give her a heart attack.

"W-what…" Reba blurted, doubling over with laughter. "What in God's name is Kyra wearing?"

"She's a cheerleader now," Terry replied, not surprised in the least.

Reba glared at him. "Well, that's obvious. I meant _why_ is Kyra a cheerleader. The Kyra I know wouldn't touch a cheerleader's uniform unless she was punching one."

"It's simple, really," Terry told her. "You see, Cheyenne never got pregnant and married at seventeen. Therefore, Kyra couldn't feel completely superior to her. So instead of being Cheyenne's total opposite, she tries to be just like her, only a better version. That includes earning straight A's as well as being popular and on the cheerleading squad."

"But Cheyenne was on the drill team," Reba responded, not sure why she felt the need to bring that up at the moment.

Terry shrugged. "In Kyra's mind, the cheer squad is better than the drill team."

Watching Kyra gladly help her sister fold some clothes, Reba commented, "This just doesn't sit right. I dare you to look me in the eye and tell me that this Kyra is happy with her life."

"She is," Terry informed her, looking her in the eye. "She doesn't know what it's like to be her other self, so she's fine with being the three P's."

Reba raised an eyebrow. "The three P's?"

"Pleasant, pretty and popular," Terry answered.

Rolling her eyes, Reba went back to her daughters. Watching Cheyenne packing a suitcase on a strange bed made her realize she had no idea where they were. "Hey, Terry…where are we?"

"Cheyenne's apartment. Well, soon to be Cheyenne's former apartment," Terry added. "She'd been living with her boyfriend, but they broke up this morning. She's going to move back to your apartment like she always does."

"'Always does'? What do you mean – "

Terry put a finger to her lips and pointed to the sisters. "Listen."

"_So what happened this time?" Kyra was asking, folding up a sweater and placing it in the suitcase._

_Cheyenne huffed in annoyance, throwing a t-shirt on top of the folded sweater. "He's such a jerk. He said he couldn't live with me because my makeup spilled over into his side of the sink. How lame is that?"_

"_It's obviously an excuse," Kyra reasoned. "It's the same with every guy you've dated in the last few years, Cheyenne. You want to move in with him before he's ready, and he gets freaked out about commitment and bails."_

_Staring at her younger sister, Cheyenne remarked, "You have _got_ to stop watching Oprah with Mom."_

"_Seriously though, you have to stop thinking every guy you meet could be your future husband. Guys are so not thinking about marriage when they meet you," Kyra reminded her._

_Cheyenne put a hand on her hip. "That's…not true. A guy proposed to me last week."_

"_It doesn't count if he's inebriated," Kyra quipped._

_Obviously not knowing what the word meant, Cheyenne snapped, "He wasn't inebriated. He was drunk, for your information."_

_Kyra chuckled to herself. "Right. Anyway, the point is that you have to loosen up. I mean, what happened? You were a total slut in high school."_

"_I don't know," Cheyenne admitted, not bothered by Kyra's "slut" label in the least. "Once I got to college, all I could think about was that I wanted to get married. Maybe it's cause I'm not really good with grades and stuff, you know? Maybe I think the only way I'll have any money is if I marry a successful guy."_

_Indicating the somewhat dingy bedroom, Kyra reasoned, "Then how do you explain going out with this guy?"_

"_Oh, shut up," Cheyenne retorted. Desperate for a change of subject, she asked, "So Kyra, how's the cheerleading squad?"_

_Smiling, Kyra answered, "Awesome. Today I did this cool flip…"_

Reba tuned out of the conversation and turned to Terry. "Funny. I never pictured Cheyenne as one to be too quick to get married."

"That's because she had to at a young age. She never got a chance to play the field and figure out what she wanted," Terry explained.

"And there's something else bothering me about this picture," Reba went on. "Why is Kyra helping Cheyenne pack? Are they best friends now or something?"

Terry hesitated before replying, "Well, sort of. Cheyenne doesn't see that Kyra wants to be like her just to be superior. She thinks it's flattering that Kyra wants to follow in her footsteps, so to speak, so they hang out more."

"That's Cheyenne for you," Reba sighed.

Letting her observe some more for a moment, Terry finally raised his hand, "You ready for our next stop?"

"There's more?" Reba asked in surprise. "But I've already seen Jake, Brock, Cheyenne, Kyra…"

"And you."

* * *

After arriving back at the house in the kitchen, Reba turned to Terry and begged, "You know, we don't have to see this…"

"What's the matter, Reba? Afraid of what you might see?" Terry retorted.

Reba glared at him, knowing he'd hit a nerve. "Me? Afraid? Yeah, right."

"Well then look over there," Terry instructed, pointing to the kitchen island. Reba's alternate self was making dinner.

"I think this time travel stuff is affecting my brain," the original Reba remarked. "I'm watching myself bread chicken cutlets…and I don't find it weird."

Terry laughed. "I guess that proves you can get used to anything, huh?"

"No kidding. So, what's going on here?" Reba asked, gesturing to the scene in front of them.

"It's a typical night. Jake's in his room, Kyra is at Cheyenne's latest place, and Brock is on his way home from work," Terry answered. "As for what your life is like, it's not as interesting as it used to be, of course."

Reba smiled. "I can live with that."

"In addition to being wife and mother," Terry went on, "You have a very active social life. You have more friends in the community, you're a leading vocalist in the church choir, and while the kids are at school you're usually volunteering or having lunch with the other mothers."

Digesting the information, Reba commented, "Sounds a little boring and 'Stepford Wives'-ish, doesn't it?"

"It's normal," Terry replied, reminding her of her wish. When she broke eye contact, he continued, "It's also what happens when you have free time."

Reba nodded in understanding. "I guess it makes sense. I finally got to find time for myself since I'm not always worried about trying to fix everyone else's problems."

"That's not all that's changed," Terry said, then looked toward the other Reba.

_Finished with breading the chicken cutlets, Reba turned on the heat under a frying pan already on the stove. She washed her hands and was about to start frying the cutlets when the phone rang. _

"_Hello? Oh, hey Brock, are you on your way home? I can't wait to go out tonight, I'm just about finished making dinner for the kids…oh, well, sure I guess that's okay, it's been a while since you were out with your friends…you're staying at your friend's house…of course, if you've been drinking I wouldn't want you driving home…yeah I'll see you tomorrow. Love you too."_

_She then hung up the phone and gave a deep sigh. A disappointed look on her face, she continued to make dinner._

The original Reba's jaw dropped, not comprehending how she herself could act that way in _any_ parallel universe. "What the hell happened to me? I was kidding when it came to the Stepford Wives analogy, but seriously, did Brock slip a microchip in my brain when I was sleeping?"

"No, you're just a lot more…trusting," Terry explained. "And forgiving, and submissive…and just not you." At her incredulous stare, he added, "Well, the divorce and Cheyenne's pregnancy shaped who you are now. Without that, you've had no reason not to be trusting. As for the submissive thing, ever since the 'Barbara Jean incident,' you've become paranoid that you might lose him so you pretty much let him do what he wants."

In shock, Reba said, "B-but…you mean I'm…oh, this isn't right, not right at all. That's not me! That's…an imposter me!"

"Okay, you're not making any sense," Terry retorted.

"You don't get…" Reba trailed off as she heard the back door slam open.

"_Hey Mom!" Cheyenne greeted, carrying a suitcase across the threshold. Kyra was behind her, a much larger suitcase in her hand._

_The addressed Reba turned around and put a hand on her hip. "Oh no. You and Jimmy broke up already?"_

"_Not 'already.' We lasted two months!" Cheyenne protested, taking a seat at the island._

_Dragging the suitcase into the kitchen and dropping it next to the island, Kyra huffed, "Ask her why they broke up, Mom."_

"_Shut up, Kyra," Cheyenne snapped._

_Reba raised an eyebrow at her eldest daughter. "Okay, I'll bite. Why did you and your boyfriend break up, Cheyenne?"_

"_Nothing. We just decided we couldn't live together," Cheyenne replied._

_When Reba looked at her youngest daughter, Kyra supplied, "He said he got annoyed when she left her makeup around his sink."_

"_Aw, poor thing. Another one not ready for commitment?" Reba commented, putting a comforting hand on Cheyenne's shoulder._

_Cheyenne shrugged the hand off. "No! Like I said, we couldn't live together."_

"_If you say so," Reba said, going back to making dinner. "Now why don't you bring the bags to your room and wash up for dinner."_

"Again, what the hell was that?" Reba exclaimed as her daughters carried the bags out.

Terry looked at her, then at the other Reba, then back again. "What? I don't see anything…"

"How could you not?" Reba asked in an incredulous tone. "I mean, I just _let_ Cheyenne shack up with a different guy every month? She moves out constantly, then waltzes back in here like it's entitled to her?"

Shrugging, Terry explained, "What can I say, you've become a lot less controlling."

"I'll say! This is ridiculous!" Reba huffed.

Terry was silent for a moment, then asked, "So I guess that means you don't want to change the future?"

"Yes…no…" Reba replied, at a loss for words. "I guess…I guess it's not that bad, if I think about it."

Surprised at her calm reasoning, Terry agreed, "I suppose it isn't. Especially when you consider what your original wish was."

Reba nodded. "Exactly! Cheyenne's a regular young woman just out of college. Kyra's a popular cheerleader. Jake's a great football player…most of the time. Brock hasn't even considered leaving me, well, seriously anyway. And I get to live life without the high blood pressure and headaches of constantly being surrounded by chaos."

"Sounds perfect," Terry remarked.

"Yeah, totally, one-hundred percent…" Reba frowned. "Perfect. Hey, Terry…what happens to Van and Barbara Jean?"

Terry shook his head. "No, no way. It's bad enough I showed you what happens to your own family members. The most I can tell you is that Van is an intern at his father's law firm since he stayed with his parents, and Barbara Jean is still a weather girl and happily married."

"To who's husband," Reba smirked.

"Believe it or not, yes, she did have an affair with another dentist, who left his wife for her. But it wasn't because he was pregnant – he and his wife were already having problems," Terry informed her.

"Still, I'm not surprised," Reba retorted.

There were several moments of silence. Then Terry waved his hand.

Before Reba realized what was happening, they were in front of Cheyenne's bedroom door. Blinking a few times, Reba asked, "What's going on?" She also noted that they weren't glowing anymore, and that her arm didn't go through the wall when she bumped into it..

"You have to decide now," Terry ordered.

Reba stared at him. "What? I thought I still had two months!"

"Not anymore," Terry corrected. "I wasn't supposed to show you what I did. But because I did, I don't have enough power left to keep you in the past any longer without a final word from you."

Wrinkling her brow, Reba said, "I think I understood that. Besides, I'm pretty sure what I want to choose anyway."

"Good. Now, you remember when I said all you had to do to change everything was walk in on Cheyenne and Van at the right time?" Terry reminded her.

Pointing at the door, Reba whispered, "You mean they're on the other side of this door about to…conceive Elizabeth? There's an image I'll never get out of my head."

Terry ignored that and replied, "Now if you want to change the future, all you have to do is…walk on in."

Thinking for a second, Reba nodded and faced the door. "Alright, I'm ready."

She reached for the doorknob.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

_August 2001_

Her hand on the doorknob, Reba ran her fingers over the brass surface. Then she let her hand fall to her side.

Smirking at Terry, she remarked, "Scared ya, didn't I?"

"What the hell did you do that for?" Terry asked, whispering as loudly as he could. "I thought you were actually going to…"

Reba folded her arms across her chest. "Why would it have mattered? I thought this was my choice."

"It was…sort of…" Terry trailed off, squirming under her steady gaze.

Glaring at him, Reba exclaimed, "Hold on just a dang minute, are you going to stand there and tell me –"

"Mom? Is that you?"

Reba and Terry froze as Cheyenne's voice came through the door. Her heart pounding, Reba panicked when she realized that she may have just altered the future without even meaning to. Her eldest daughter's voice had been unnaturally high, something it used to do when she got in trouble.

Putting a finger to her lips, Reba tiptoed away from the door towards the stairs. She smiled as she heard Cheyenne breathe a sigh of relief and say, "Van! Stop scaring me like that! She wasn't there, you jerk."

Once in the living room, Reba turned on Terry. "As I was saying, _are you gonna stand there and tell me this was all a joke?_"

"Not a joke. A life lesson type-thing," Terry explained. "See, I was supposed to take you to the past, and you were supposed to realize that you liked your life just the way it was. And I thought it all blew up in my face when you reached for that doorknob."

Reba smacked his arm. "This was supposed to teach me a lesson? How very after school special of you!"

"Ouch!" Terry yelped, rubbing the sore spot. "Well, it worked didn't it? Or you would've walked in on Van and Cheyenne."

"That and the fact that I didn't want to walk in on my daughter and future son-in-law 'getting it on'," Reba snapped.

Waiting a few moments until she calmed down, Terry finally asked, "So…what _did_ change your mind?"

"I don't know, a bunch of things," Reba admitted, sitting on the arm on the easy chair for support. "But mostly it was something Kyra said. The seventeen-year-old one."

"Which was?"

Looking up at him with a small grin on her face, Reba answered, "'Things are exactly how they're supposed to be or they wouldn't have happened that way.' Also known as…everything happens for a reason. Believing that was what got me through the divorce and Cheyenne's pregnancy. What makes it okay for me to believe it when times are tough, but not now?

"As much as I tried to reason my way out of it…I just couldn't answer my own question with a dignified response. Ever since I got here, I've been so overwhelmed that I couldn't see how wrong this was. Now I can," Reba finished, a note of guilt in her tone. "Yeah, I realize I'll have to go back to a life with Barbara Jean in it, but hey, you gotta take the good with the bad."

Terry smiled at her, putting a comforting hand on her shoulder. "I'm proud of you, Reba. You're a real survivor."

Reba paused at that. "Thanks…why does that sound so familiar?"

Chuckling, Terry asked, "So, you ready to go?"

"I'm not sure. Something else is bothering me," Reba said. "That alternate future you showed me. It seemed too…perfect. I mean, there were some flaws, and no one was themselves. But…there's no way life can be that perfect."

"You wanna know a secret? It isn't," Terry replied.

Reba stared at him. "What do you mean?"

"Here, let me show you something," Terry answered, then pointed at the TV. There was a swirl of golden light.

Gasping, Reba was surprised when a scene unfolded on the screen. She saw herself, sitting at an unfamiliar kitchen table. What surprised her more was that her old friend Lori Ann stood a few feet away at the kitchen's island sipping a margarita. "Wow, it's so clear. Kinda looks like I have my own show," she remarked, chuckling.

"Let's call it 'The Reba Show,' also known as 'what happens to Reba Hart a year after what she saw of the alternate timeline," Terry said.

Not taking her eyes off the television, Reba reasoned, "Wait, this is…what happened if Cheyenne hadn't gotten pregnant and Brock and I were still married, like what you showed me of that 2007. Only this is 2008?"

Terry nodded. "Exactly."

_The Reba on the television was dialing a number on her cell phone. "Um, hey Brock…yeah, I know it's been a while…look, I was wondering if you could send the kids my way this weekend, I haven't seen them in months…busy, huh? Well, I was wondering if I could just, you know, drive down and come over one day…_

"_I understand, but Brock, Cheyenne just had the baby and I haven't even met her yet…you're not the boss of Cheyenne, you jerk, I can see her whenever I want…this isn't fair, in the settlement we agreed to at least one weekend a month…well then I'll go visit Kyra at college…I don't care if she doesn't want to see me! They're my kids, Brock! You can't just…hello?"_

_On the verge of tears, she pressed the power button on the receiver and cradled it in her hand. "The bastard hung up on me."_

"_Aw, sweetie," Lori Ann sighed, going over and giving her best friend a hug. "I'm not surprised though. You knew he was a petty grudge-holding bonehead when you met him."_

"_I know, but I liked him back then. I thought it was cute!" Reba defended, sobbing into Lori Ann's arm._

_Patting Reba on the shoulder, Lori Ann sat down next to her. "It's all gonna be okay. After all, when you left him six months ago and moved in with me, you didn't think you were gonna live to see the next day. But look at you now! You're working for this big real estate company…"_

"_I can't see my kids and I go bar hopping with you every weekend," Reba interrupted "My life sucks."_

_Lori Ann pretended to be insulted. "Well excuse me for trying to get you to do something on the weekend, you ungrateful butt."_

"_I know, I didn't mean it that way," Reba apologized, a small smile on her face. _

_Grabbing her pocket book, Lori Ann stood up. For the first time Reba noticed she was dressed up in tight jeans and a revealing blouse. "Just where do you think you're going?"_

"_Well, I'm going to go pick up a man at that bar that just opened down the street," Lori Ann informed her. "I _was_ going to invite you, but since you think it 'sucks' I'll just go…"_

_Reba jumped out of her chair and ran out of the kitchen. "Oh, be quiet you, just wait for me to get changed."_

Staring at the screen with her mouth open in shock, Reba rounded on Terry and started punching his arm. "You were gonna let me choose without showing me that, you butthead?"

"It was beyond my power! I couldn't…" Terry protested between Reba's punches.

Finally tiring from the punching, Reba sank back on to the easy chair's arm. Realizing she was about to cry she wiped her eyes. In a quiet voice, she asked, "What happened, Terry? How did things go from so good…to so bad?"

"It's not really clear," Terry breathed, hurting from the bruises that were forming on his arm. "Sometime after Brock started hanging out with his buddies more. You got bored, Kyra's new math teacher was cute…"

"Oh my Lord…I didn't…I couldn't…" Reba stuttered.

Terry shook his head. "No. But you came close. He offered to help tutor Kyra and wound up staying later than he planned, Brock was still working…Brock walked in on you two kissing and you had a huge fight."

"We broke up just 'cause I kissed a guy?" Reba questioned, wrinkling her brow in confusion.

"Not just that," Terry said. "Brock eventually forgave you, but you never forgave yourself. You kept obsessing over it. You came to realize that you didn't love Brock anymore and left him."

Standing, Reba walked toward the front door and called over her shoulder, "I guess that just proves that everything does happen for a reason, doesn't it?"

"Hey, where are you going? I have to send you back!" Terry reminded her.

Getting her purse out of the closet, Reba paused. "Terry, is it okay if I didn't go back _right_ away? There's something I need to do first."

* * *

Reba stood in front of Brock's private office door. She wasn't nervous. All her anxiety had seemingly disappeared once she'd told Terry her decision. No, she wasn't nervous. She was relieved. After this conversation she would have with Brock, she will finally get what she'd been wanting for six years.

Closure.

Though she had to admit it would be hard to get closure for something that technically didn't happen yet. Oh well - she'd work around that.

Letting out a deep breath, she knocked on the door.

"Come in."

She went in at Brock's voice. He was so busy with paper work he didn't even glance at her "Hey Brock."

"Oh, hey sweetie," Brock greeted, getting up and giving her a quick kiss.

Knowing that it would be the last passionate lip-lock they ever shared, Reba grabbed the front of his shirt and lengthened the kiss.

When they broke apart, Brock was gasping for air. "Whoa, what was that for?"

"Brock, there's something I need to say to you," Reba answered, closing the door behind her. She took a seat opposite him while he sat on the corner of his desk.

Wrinkling his brow with concern, Brock asked, "Honey, are you okay?"

"I will be," Reba replied. After hesitating a moment, she began, "What I need to say is this. Brock…I will always love you. There will be times I may not want to, but you will always be in my heart some way or another. Even when you do stupid, stupid things."

Brock stared at her. In a half-joking tone, he remarked, "You're not leaving me, are you?"

Trying not to laugh at the irony, Reba assured him, "No. I just felt the need to say this now."

"Okay then…anything else?" Brock asked with some reservation.

Reba almost said no, but then changed her mind. "Yes, actually. You're not going to understand this for another month, but I need to tell you…I forgive you. I forgive you for everything you've ever done to hurt me. I understand it now. This is how my life is supposed to go, and I'm fine with it.

"In fact, Brock, I'm going to thank you," Reba continued. "While what you did may have hurt me at the time, I get it now. Everything occurred so it could bring me to where I am today, and I'm forever grateful.

"And lastly, I'll never regret marrying you. What we had was special, and it gave me our children, who I love with all my heart. We had some great times together, didn't we?"

"Yes we did," Brock agreed, taking Reba's hand in his. "Reba, you're scaring me. What's going on?"

Reba shook her head, wiping away the tears welling in her eyes with her free hand. "N-nothing. I guess I'm just a little emotional today."

Placing down her hand and standing up, Brock replied, "If you say so. You know what, Cheyenne's home with the kids, right? Why don't I finish up with this last patient, and then take you out to dinner."

"That sounds wonderful," Reba answered, knowing it would never happen. "Thanks for listening, Brock."

As he left the office, Brock smiled at her. "No problem, sweetheart. I love you."

"I love you too," Reba responded. When he'd closed the door behind him, she whispered, "And I always will."

She was silent for a moment, then called, "Okay, Terry. I'm ready."

Sure enough, he appeared in front of Brock's desk, perched on the ledge. "That was really nice, Reba."

"Nice had nothing to do with it," Reba informed him. "Those feelings had been inside me for some time. This was my one chance to get this off my chest."

Terry tilted his head in confusion. "Couldn't you tell the Brock in your time?"

"No," Reba replied simply. She didn't feel the need to explain that she could never gather the courage to tell future Brock what she'd said to his past self.

Getting the hint, Terry stood up and rubbed his hands together. "Alright then. Let's get you back to where you belong. Though just to let you know, your family won't remember a thing. About you being in the past, I mean."

"I think I'd prefer it if they didn't," Reba admitted. Suddenly eager to get back, she joked, "So what do I do, click the heels of my sneakers together three times and say 'there's no place like home'?"

Chuckling, Terry answered, "No, nothing like that. Just close your eyes and I'll do the rest."

"Okay," Reba said. Before doing so, she gave Terry a hug. "Thanks, Terry. For everything."

Hugging her back, Terry responded, "It was a pleasure. I've always got your back, Reba."

"I know," Reba replied, smiling. Then she closed her eyes.

* * *

A/N: Wow, I can't believe it's over. I finished this so quickly I think I'm going to miss this story. Thank you all so much for all your amazing reviews! You're all great! Stay tuned for the epilogue!


	12. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

_Oh, ouch_, Reba thought, wincing at the sudden pain. It was a throbbing pain in the front of her head, kind of like a headache but a thousand times worse. She also came to be aware of sharp pinching in both her arms.

Somehow she managed to get her eyes open. Sure enough, she was in a hospital bed, a blinking monitor at her side.

"_Reba!_"

The shriek pierced her senses. Slowly turning her head to her right side, she gave a weak smile. "Hey, Barbara Jean."

"You're awake!" Barbara Jean gushed, wrapping her arms around the redhead as best she could. "Oh, I've missed you! There were times I thought I'd never hear that sweet voice again!"

"Barbara Jean, the needles, the needles!" Reba exclaimed. The blonde's hug was digging the needles further into her arms.

Jumping back, Barbara Jean replied, "Oh my gosh, I'm sorry! You know what, I'm going to get everyone else. For the love of God, stay awake!"

_If your yelling doesn't keep me awake, the pain will_, Reba thought. Noting the scene Barbara Jean had made, several nurses rushed over to Reba's bedside and started taking her vitals. After a good check up from the doctor, her family was allowed to come in.

"I'm amazed, Mrs. Hart," the doctor was saying as her family filed in. "You're one-hundred percent healthy. Though what shocks me is that your high blood pressure has, well, vanished. We've been giving you medication, but it's had little effect until now." The doctor shook his head in disbelief, then added, "Well, I'll leave you to your family. Hopefully we'll have you home in a few days."

_Thanks Terry_, Reba thought as she glanced upwards.

When the doctor left, everyone gave her a hug in greeting.

"We're so happy you're awake, Mom," Cheyenne said as she held her mother's hand, Elizabeth at her side. "We were really worried that you wouldn't pull through."

Brock nodded, then commented, "I don't know why we would though. Seems kind of stupid on our part. This is Reba we're talking about after all."

"Thanks Brock," Reba replied, taking his hand with her free one.

"It's a good thing you're up, Mrs. H," Van put in, "Everything was falling apart without you."

"Yeah, Mom. We were so afraid we'd lose you," Kyra added.

Smiling at his mother, Jake agreed, "That would've been really bad. I don't want to live with Dad and Barbara Jean!"

"Who said we would've take you, squirt?" Brock joked. "Maybe we would've unloaded you on Cheyenne and Van."

Reba laughed at Jake's terrified expression. "That's enough talk about my death. Ya'll get back to the waiting room now. I need to rest my eyes for a bit."

"Of course. We'll be right outside if you need us," Brock assured her, taking Henry's hand as he left with the others.

Giving Reba one last careful hug, Barbara Jean said, "I really missed you, Reba."

After a moment's pause, Reba hugged her back. "I missed you too, Barbara Jean."

* * *

"And the queen has returned to her castle!" Van announced, carrying a weakened Reba across her house's threshold. It was less than a week later, and Reba had just received the green light to go home that morning. Since she'd been in bed so much, her muscles weren't strong. Van and Brock were taking turns carrying her around.

The rest of the family applauded, giving cries of "long live the queen!" as Van carried his mother-in-law further into the foyer. Giving her best regal grin, Reba waved her arm. "Yes, applaud royal subjects! I'm back!"

"Speaking of back, you're really killing mine, Your Majesty," Van whined. "Mr. H, you want to take over?"

"But you only had to carry her for five minutes this time!" Brock protested.

Holding onto Van's neck, Reba lowered her feet to the floor. "Quit moaning, you two. I think I'm fine now."

"Are you sure?" Cheyenne asked, glaring at her husband.

Reba kept an arm on Van for support. "Yes, I'm sure. Just help me over to the banister, will you Van? I want to take a decent shower."

"No way! You lay down on the couch," Barbara Jean ordered. "We're all going to go into the kitchen and get lunch ready. One of us will help you when you're done eating."

"Which one?" Reba, Van and Brock exclaimed in simultaneous horror.

Rolling her eyes, Kyra volunteered, "I'll help her."

"Thanks sweetie," Reba replied, her smile full of relief.

Van put an arm around Kyra's shoulders in a grateful hug. "Yeah, thanks Kyra, you're the best!"

Chuckling to herself as everyone went into the kitchen, Reba's curiosity piqued when Brock stayed put. "What's up, Brock?"

"Reba, there's something I gotta talk to you about," Brock began, sitting on the edge of the couch near Reba's feet. "You wouldn't happen to remember what you were doing when you fell, do you?"

After thinking a second, Reba nodded. "Yeah, I was taking down Christmas decorations and talking to you…Oh, Brock, don't tell me you blame yourself for what happened."

"It's kind of hard not to," Brock admitted, his face coloring with embarrassment and shame. "I should've caught you."

Reba gave him a sympathetic grin. "Brock, don't you think that if I was meant to be caught, you would've caught me?"

"I never thought of it that way," Brock answered in awe. "I think being in a coma has made you more philosophical."

"Maybe," Reba agreed with a laugh.

Shaking his head, Brock continued, "Anyway, there's something else. When you were first brought into the hospital, I kind of…told a small lie. I was so afraid that everyone would get mad at me that I said that you were already unconscious on the floor when I walked in. I know it's horrible to even ask you this, but…"

"Your secret is safe with me," Reba assured him. "And if it helps you feel better, I forgive you. Even though in my opinion there's nothing to forgive."

Brock got up and kissed her on the cheek. "You are entirely too good to me."

"And don't you forget that," Reba warned. Before he could go into the kitchen, she called, "Hey Brock?"

"Yes Reba?" Brock replied, turning to face her.

Sitting up against the arm of the couch, Reba started, "I was thinking about something. Did you realize that the day I went into a coma was the day before our wedding anniversary?"

"It was?" Brock questioned in shock.

Reba nodded. "Yes, it was. And it really got me to thinking. Just because we're not married doesn't mean we can't at least acknowledge it every year. We've managed to stay together even after everything we've been through. I think that deserves some acknowledgement."

"You know what, you're right," Brock said, giving her a smile. "Happy Anniversary, Reba."

"Happy Anniversary, Brock," Reba laughed.

Minutes later, the others brought in a lunch of cold cut sandwiches. When everything was eaten, the others went into the kitchen to clean up. Reba began to climb the stairs on her own, determined to take a long, hot bath.

"Mom, what are you doing?"

Reba turned to find Kyra standing next to her, an annoyed look on her face. "I'm sorry, sweetie, but if I don't get into a nice bath soon I might hurt somebody."

"Okay, just sit down," Kyra told her. "I'll go start the tub, then I'll come and help you up."

"But…oh, fine," Reba huffed, lowering herself onto the bottom stair.

Kyra paused, then sat down next to her. "Mom, I'm proud of you."

"Well, that was random, but thanks," Reba replied.

Looking Reba in the eye, Kyra maintained her serious tone. "Mom, I remember. Everything."

"Oh my Lord," Reba gasped. "But _how_? Terry said that everyone would forget…"

Kyra shrugged. "I guess he forgot about me. But I'm glad he did."

"You know what, I'm glad he did too," Reba said. "And frankly, I don't think he forgot."

Nodding, Kyra went on, "Anyway, I also wanted to say this. I'm sorry about what I said when Terry took me to the past. I had no right to yell at you and accuse you of being selfish."

"No you didn't," Reba told her. "But you were right. Timelines are just something that shouldn't be messed with. Lesson learned."

"Good. I really am proud of you, Mom. That was a lot to go through, with the coma and everything…" Kyra trailed off, giving her a quick hug. "You're a real survivor."

Watching her daughter go up the steps, Reba shook her head. "Why does everyone keep calling me that?"


End file.
